


Folly To Be Wise

by white_serpent



Series: The Paths of Glory [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_serpent/pseuds/white_serpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus had to disagree with Dumbledore-- there was never a good time to encounter a former lover for whom one had betrayed the Dark Lord. It was worse, still, to encounter a lover one had tried to feed to a dementor. Unfortunately, Sirius Black was both wrapped up into one wasted package.  [Note:  The bulk of this story retells the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, portions of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and the beginning of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince from Severus Snape's point of view. I have not incorporated any dialogue from these novels, and any similarities in phrasing are entirely unintentional.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

[3 August 1980]

It was just past midday, but the pub was dimly lit. Few windows looked out on the street; those that did were shadowed, letting little light in. A few sconces on the walls had battled valiantly, but were ultimately overcome by the room's determination remain dark; half had burnt out in resignation. The rest produced vague pools of light. The common room itself held an array of small round tables with white marble tops and black iron bases. Empty oak chairs clustered around them, the wood dark with age and use. Empty barstools stood in front of the tall counter; a row of taps was barely visible over it. There was the faint, but easily discernable, smell of goats.

A thin-faced man with white hair stood behind the counter. He wore a dingy green apron. He wiped at the dark wood bartop with a rag that might once have been white. Now, its edges were frayed, and the cloth was a dingy gray. The barman's narrowed eyes were focused on the room's only other inhabitant.

A young man sat with his back in the far corner. The corner was one of the darkest areas in the common room. His pale skin cut through the shadows; his face and hands stood out, skeleton-white, against the black of his eyes, robes, and hair. His nose was large, a prominent beak dominating his thin face. He was hunched over the table. His arms were outstretched across the table surface; his sleeves revealed his arms to a few inches above his wrists. His bony fingers were tightly laced, his elbows in tight against his sides. 

He shifted in his chair. Every few minutes, his eyes twitched from their fixed stare at the door, taking in the barman, then shifted back to the door. After each glance, the barman paused for a few moments in his wiping of the counter.

Movement came at the door. The barman set down the cloth, turned to look. The young man jumped in his chair before settling back in place, fingers tightening against each other.

A man pushed the heavy door open, then stepped in, letting it fall closed behind him. His white hair hung down long around his shoulders, and his beard hung to mid-chest. He wore red velvet robes that brushed against the pitted plank floor as he walked. There was a faint glint of light off his spectacles as he shot a glance at the barman, who gave a slight nod in reply.

The young man shuddered in place, eyes darting back and forth between the other two men.

The bearded man walked across the common room until he reached the corner table. He grabbed a chair, dragged it across the floor with a painful shriek, then sat. He set his elbows easily on the table.

The young man's clenched fingers eased momentarily, then grabbed tighter than before.

The barman went back to wiping the bartop.

The bearded man broke the silence, voice quiet. "Well, Mr Snape."

The young man's eyes snapped closed for a moment, then opened again. He cleared his throat, licked his lips, then cleared it again. His voice came out as little above a whisper. "Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore blinked slowly. "Your note indicated you wished to speak to me."

Snape shifted in his chair. "Yes-- I--" He cleared his throat again. "May I, here?"

Dumbledore turned his head left, right, and center, pausing pointedly in each position. "We are the only three here. You have already made the acquaintance of my brother Aberforth, I believe."

Snape's head twisted towared the barman. His face flitted through a series of expressions in a bare few seconds, then assumed a forced-looking indifference. "Yes," he said, "we've met."

The barman's mouth twitched. "Interesting to see you again, Snape," the barman said.

Snape nodded, the motion jerky. He turned back to Dumbledore. His fingers clenched tight together, knuckles very white, even against pale skin. "I applied at Hogwarts last year."

There was no warmth in Dumbledore's response. "And I refused your application, as I did this year."

"Yes." Snape licked his lips, shifting in his chair again. His clenched hands fell apart; he laid them flat against the tabletop. "You know I overheard the prophecy."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, arms still laying loose before him. His tone was light, conversational. "Which, as I assume you know, is the cause of your rejected application. Not that I think either you or Voldemort expected me to accept, Mr Snape. He did send you here, did he not?"

Snape nodded. "Yes."

Dumbledore's head shook slowly from side to side. "Then, since we're speaking plainly: I've no interest in harboring a Death Eater and a spy."

Snape shook his head. His right hand lifted, reaching out toward Dumbledore. "I'm offering to be _your_ spy." He looked down, seemed to see his outstretched hand, dropped it. He laid it flat against the tabletop once more.

The barman froze in place, eyes locked on the pair in the corner.

Dumbledore's forearms pivoted up; he steepled his fingers before his lips. His eyes narrowed. He spoke with slow consideration. "Are you indeed? Why might you think I would be interested in a spy? Should you not be offering your services to the Ministry?"

Snape shook his head, hard. He jerked his arms back, crossed them over his chest. He gave a bitter laugh. "Let's not pretend. The price is too high. I know the Dark Lord has agents at the Ministry. Some I know personally, some I do not. The Dark Lord has no fear of the Ministry. They will do nothing, and they cannot protect me. I know about you and your 'Order of the Phoenix.' You can. Are you interested in my information?" Snape's tone was firm, but his body shook.

The barman seemed to realise he was staring. He looked down at his right hand, still clutching the cloth. His mouth twisted. He started wiping at the bartop once more.

Dumbledore tapped his lips with his steepled fingers. "And your price?"

Snape's laugh was a single humorless snort. "Place me at Hogwarts-- your word on it. They _will_ kill me."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. His tone changed from considering to regretful. "I cannot; not this year." He made a move to rise.

Snape flinched. His response came quickly, words tripping over one another. "Next year? Please."

Dumbledore settled back in his chair. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Why would you do this?"

Snape looked away. His arms uncrossed. His right hand rubbed back and forth against the edge of the tabletop. It stilled. He lifted his chin, turned his head back, and looked straight at Dumbledore. "I told the Dark Lord what I heard, last year-- the child, the seventh month, the defeat of the Dark Lord." Snape drew in a breath, continued. "James Potter's child was born three days ago."

Dumbledore's eyes closed. He let out a faint sigh. "I see. Please go on."

Snape's voice was bitter. "I don't like Potter, and I don't like his Mudblood wife. But I don't want either of them dead. I owe Potter a life debt."

Dumbledore had flinched at the word "Mudblood." There was a thread of anger in his response. "Do you expect me to believe you would take such a drastic step for _James Potter,_ Mr Snape? You were hardly friends. As I recall, you despised each other."

Snape clutched the edge of the tabletop. "I don't want him dead." It was said with too much force.

"It might not refer to Potter's child, Mr Snape. If Voldemort finds another target, your life debt would seem to be of little use to me." Dumbledore shook his head again. His right eyebrow lifted. "You are a very skilled Occlumens, Mr Snape. I'm impressed. I cannot read you. I dare not risk so much for someone I cannot trust. No, Mr Snape, I think not." This time, Dumbledore did rise from his chair. He had half-turned before Snape spoke again.

"I will take the Unbreakable Vow. Anything you want. _Please._ "

Dumbledore turned back, stood looking down at Snape. Two faint creases appeared between his brows. "The Unbreakable Vow?" he repeated

"Yes." Snape sighed. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The barman had dropped the cloth on the bartop. He crossed his arms and stood, staring at Snape. Snape's face was slack.

For a long time, Dumbledore looked wordlessly down at Snape. The barman's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. "What will you swear?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape's voice was hollow. "What do you want me to swear?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Loyalty, to me. Your word to defend the child-- whomever it might be. Will you swear it?"

"Of course." Snape sounded dismissive, but he sat up in his chair. His eyes opened, looking up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's lips parted. He sighed. "This is a high price to pay. I ask you again. Why? Most are not so eager for a teaching position at Hogwarts. I see very little gain in this for you."

Snape looked away. Two spots of red colour rose in his cheeks, starkly visible against the sickly pale skin. 

Dumbledore sighed again. "I already knew you were sleeping with Sirius Black, Mr Snape. Are you passing information on him?"

The barman's lips pursed. He looked down at the bartop.

The colour drained out of Snape's face, leaving him white as death. His mouth twitched, and he nodded, then shook his head hard. The ends of his black hair whipped against his cheeks. "Yes-- no. Only at the beginning-- the Dark Lord wanted to know about Regulus."

Dumbledore's hand reached out to the back of the chair he had vacated. He slid it back and forth along the top of the chair. "I'd noticed Sirius seemed happier."

Snape laughed; the sound contained no mirth. "It doesn't matter now."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "No. It doesn't."

Snape swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his neck. He looked down; his hand rubbed at the edge of the tabletop once more. "I couldn't do it, you understand. I can't help the Dark Lord with this."

"No. You couldn't." Dumbledore sighed. His hand stilled, gripped the back of the chair. "I will accept your vow, Mr Snape. Aberforth will serve as our Bonder." Snape nodded jerkily, still not looking up. "Then, Mr Snape, you will tell me everything you have done for Voldemort in the past few years."

"Yes, sir."

The barman moved around the bar and to the table.


	2. Part I


    Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade,
    	Ah, fields belov'd in vain,
    Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
    	A stranger yet to pain!

***

[24 June 1995]

Black's Animagus form was sitting square in the middle of the corridor when Snape closed the infirmary door behind him. Severus paused, sneered at the beast, then circled around to continue in his path. He'd moved two paces further before Black's voice brought him up short.

"Wait, Snape."

"Some of us have places to be, Black. You're one, as I recall." Dumbledore had just ordered Black to alert Lupin and the rest of the old members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Black's response was low and menacing. "This won't take long."

He felt a prickling between his shoulder blades. Severus turned, facing Black. He'd been too busy in the infirmary to study the other man. _Still a mess._ Black's hair hung in tangles below his shoulders. He was still gaunt and pale, a poor imitation of his younger self. The aquiline nose, the grey eyes-- those remained. Severus met and held Black's eyes. The rage radiating from Black almost knocked him flat. 

With hindsight, he knew that Black had never been completely stable before Azkaban. The emotions washing off of him indicated Black's hold on sanity now was slim indeed.

Black's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.

"Get on with it, Black."

Black pursed his lips. "You're a Death Eater."

Severus let out his breath in an exasperated huff. "And what gave you the first clue? The fact that I said I was? Of course I am."

Black took two steps forward. He was too close; Severus wanted to step back; instead, he squared his shoulders and held his position. "I wouldn't be so _flip,_ Snape." There was a growl underneath Black's ruined voice. "You were assigned to spy on me."

_What does he expect me to say-- "oh, no, Sirius. I wanted you; I betrayed the Dark Lord for you"? Better anything but that._ "Oh, very good. And you've not even had help."

Black's lips drew back. The words came through clenched teeth. "Must have had quite a laugh, then. 'Sirius Black's a poof. Begs me to fuck him.'"

Severus snorted. "You left out the part where you set your wards to allow me access and let me tie you up. That was far more amusing."

Black's face turned white; he took a step back. Severus felt a rush of satisfaction. "How did you _ever_ get Dumbledore to trust you?" Black said.

"You may take that up with him." Severus narrowed his eyes. "Are we done here? I have somewhere else to be."

"We're done." Black's lips were twisted in a sneer.

"Good." He turned on his heel . He'd moved only a few paces before Black spoke again.

"Snape, tell Harry and I swear I will kill you." The words were quiet, but Severus heard them very clearly.

He stopped and looked back. "Afraid Potter will reject you for it?" He laughed, a single bark. "Potter and I don't exchange confidences. I've no desire to have others know the depths of degradation I've been subjected to." He turned his head forward and walked on, feeling the burn of Black's eyes against his back. It was a relief when he turned the first corner.

***

Severus did not pause to gather his mask and robe on his way out of the castle. He walked swiftly through the corridors and out past the crowds of the still-milling, still-confused spectators. They'd gone so quickly from the Tri-Wizard Tournament to his own personal nightmare.

The buzz of conversation obscured his passage. He made it to the edge of Hogwarts' Apparition wards, stopped. _The first rule of keeping secrets is never appearing as if you have anything to hide._

Still, he paused a few crucial minutes, trying to regain his composure. Encountering Black again-- _Retaining my life depends on retaining control._

He was playing a very delicate game. He had to strictly control the thoughts the Dark Lord could access. Strong emotion would open the door. And this-- facing Black was worse than the Cruciatus Curse, worse than the knowledge that he might die today.

He took a few deep breaths, waiting until his mind stilled. _Focus._

Years of practise in Occlumency had trained Severus to hold his thoughts in layers: on top, a barrier that could be penetrated by a Legilimens, but not without effort; below it, a layer of thoughts he was willing to allow Voldemort to read; below that, another barrier; and finally, the few thoughts and memories he needed to conceal. By keeping the concealed layer deliberately small, Severus hoped to convince Voldemort of his honesty. 

Calmer now, he pressed his lips together. It was the only sign of terror he allowed himself. He took his wand, and, touching it to his robed left arm, Apparated.

***

The cold slide of Apparition cemented his calm.

Severus hadn't expected to reappear in the graveyard Potter had described-- the site of Voldemort's resurrection. After Potter's escape, Voldemort and his supporters would have fled.

Sheer malevolence washed over Severus. "Severus Snape. I wasn't expecting you." 

The voice was familiar. The face was not. With the strict control he'd spent his life perfecting, he forced himself to remain in place. Voldemort's new body faced him-- worse than the Potter brat had described: slitted red eyes, pale face, flattened nose. He sat in an old chair, wooden back nicked and gouged where Severus saw it over Voldemort's shoulders. It should have made Voldemort less frightening; it didn't. Peter Pettigrew lurked behind him, smiling with narrow-eyed eagerness. Severus' eyes caught and held on Pettigrew's silver hand. _All true, all of it--_ not that he'd doubted Potter's word. 

Severus felt his stomach twist. Only now did he risk a quick glance at his surroundings-- the rough boards forming the walls gaped in places, letting in the fading light. The floor was dirt. The room was empty save for the chair, Voldemort, and Pettigrew.

He steeled himself to ignore Pettigrew's presence. He knelt on the floor. Head down, he crawled forward until he reached Voldemort's feet, until he could touch the sweep of his robe above the floor. Severus reached out slowly, caught the hem, brought it to his lips.

"So, Severus, you have returned."

"Yes, Master."

"How very interesting." He revised his opinion of Voldemort's voice. It sounded much the same, but for the lack of humanity. Voldemort's voice was lightly amused as he cast the spell: _"Crucio."_

Blinding, excruciating pain ripped through his joints, his muscles-- agony tore through his brain. And then, as suddenly as the pain began, blessed relief.

He was still on the floor, but now lay on his right side, curled tightly in a fetal position. He felt the afterimage of pain threading through his muscles; he felt wetness against his cheeks. Hit with the Cruciatus Curse, facing Voldemort, a hairsbreadth from death-- it was oddly worse to know that Pettigrew had seen him cry. "You were tardy in returning, Severus. I thought you had deserted me."

Severus licked his lips. "No, Master." His voice was harsh with screaming.

"Where is Crouch?" 

Severus shuddered. "Dead, Master."

"Is he. A loss. How very interesting." No grief, no anger-- they might have been discussing the price of Fizzing Whizzbees. _No, not that. Don't think of Dumbledore._ "Look at me."

His Occlumency would hold against Voldemort now or not at all. He sat up, fighting past stiff muscles. He turned his head up, meeting those red, red eyes. He focused the image of Crouch's death firmly in his mind: Fudge, the dementor, the kiss.

"Describe it. _Tell the truth._ "

Severus passed the first stage. It didn't mean he could relax. "He returned Potter to the school after Potter's escape. It was," he licked at his lips again, "out of character for the role of Mad-Eye Moody. Dumbledore knew, then. We went in, captured him. Dumbledore questioned him under Veritaserum-- "

"And you made no attempt to prevent it?"

Severus would have lowered his head, but he knew he had to hold Voldemort's gaze. "I did not _know_ , Master. Moody-- Crouch-- had threatened to expose me several times. He had searched my office. I did not know he was _your_ agent; all I knew was that Dumbledore believed he was not Moody. If you had contacted me--" He felt the slimy press of Voldemort's mind against his own. He continued the layering of his thoughts, trying to reinforce the impression of honesty.

"Hmm. I see. And how much does Dumbledore know?"

His head hurt. "All that Crouch knew, Master."

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. Severus almost expected him to start hissing. "I fail to see what service you have provided me, Severus. Dumbledore is privy to my secrets, and my most trusted servant is dead." There was a slight movement out of the corner of Severus' eye. _Pettigrew._ Hidden beneath several layers of thoughts, Severus felt malicious amusement-- _That's right, Pettigrew; cutting off your own hand doesn't make you "most trusted."_

"Master, I could not prevent Crouch revealing all to Dumbledore. I _could_ have prevented his death."

"And you did not. Why?" Voldemort shifted in his chair, leaning forward.

Severus tightened his jaw. "I felt it to be the best service I could provide, Master. I could not have helped him escape. Without Crouch to give evidence, the Minister of Magic has only Dumbledore's word that you have returned. The Minister has always suspected Dumbledore was trying to undermine him. If anything, this will be further inducement for the Minister to deny your return and officially suppress all rumors. He will undermine Dumbledore at every turn in the name of protecting his own position. It was simplicity itself to convince the Minister to bring a dementor to _protect_ him from Crouch. One or two words in his ear as we walked to the castle-- the Kiss was performed immediately."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. It was a long time before he spoke. "Ah. Interesting. But you have always been very clever, Severus. I admire your ability to think on your feet."

Severus didn't allow himself to question the statement. He repeated his assurance. "I felt it to be the best service I could provide, Master, given the alternatives."

Voldemort drummed his fingers against his knee. "And I'm certain that you have similar explanations for your earlier attempts to interfere with my efforts, Severus?"

The explanation of Crouch's death had been devised on the fly. He'd had years to concoct the other excuses. "Master, if you had only contacted me. I always learned of your plans afterward. I did not know Quirrell was your instrument. I erred; I thought you were dead. I assumed he was working solely for himself; I saw no reason to let _Quirrell_ have the Stone. The diary? Again, Master, I did not know. _Lucius_ did not know."

Voldemort's voice was considering. "I see. And your return now-- is it on Dumbledore's orders?"

"Of course, Master."

Voldemort's lips curved up. "He still believes you loyal to him." His head tilted. In a conversational tone, he asked, "Are you?"

Severus felt his hands tense. He forced them to lie flat against the dirt floor. "Again, Master, I thought it in your best interests. Dumbledore trusts me. By waiting until he gave the order, I retain that trust. I may return to Hogwarts-- watch him-- join his organisation-- report to you. I thought it best to keep that option open to you."

Voldemort's fingers twitched against his leg. His lips parted, showing teeth. "You have certainly shown initiative, Severus."

"He's lying," Pettigrew said, whine coming through the sharp tone. "He must be."

So intent was he on Voldemort, Severus had nearly forgotten Pettigrew. However, the accusation was the break Severus had wanted; it forced the question. "Master, you know I am not."

Voldemort raised a hand. "Wormtail, Severus cannot lie to me." He pursed his lips. "You have done well, Severus," he said slowly. "But there are still more lacks on your part. For four years now, you have had easy access to Harry Potter. And yet, he is still alive. You have much to explain."

This, again, he had been prepared for. He began the explanation, keeping his thoughts under strict control.

In the end, even Pettigrew seemed to believe it.

***

His mouth was dry, his head was throbbing, and his throat ached when he was done with his explanations. Voldemort had demanded a full report of Dumbledore's activities. Severus had given it, all the while conscious of Voldemort's mind pressing against his.

Voldemort pressed his lips together. "Does Dumbledore know why I yet live, Severus?"

Severus shook his head slowly. This was the one direct lie he had to tell; all others had been careful edits of the truth. "No, Master, I did not tell him."

The press of Voldemort's mind was strong against his. Voldemort was silent as his mind probed against the careful layer of Severus' thoughts. At last, Severus felt him withdrawing. "Ah."

"Master, I've told you all I know," his voice cracked on the words. "What do you wish of me?"

Voldemort turned his head to the side, thinking. It had the air of a cobra, preparing to strike. "Dumbledore will be collecting the Order of the Phoenix"-- his voice mocked the name-- "and he trusts you. Your position is too valuable to lose."

Severus licked at his lips; his tongue was so dry it made little impact. "They will expect me to have intelligence to convey."

Voldemort smiled. "You will convey only what I tell you to convey, Severus."

Severus nodded. The movement increased the ache in his head.

"And you will convey the results of your spying on his little group-- _all_ of your results-- to me."

Severus nodded again. "Of course, Master."

"For now, you may return to Hogwarts. Watch Dumbledore. Watch his foolish Order. I will have further instructions for you on the boy and on Dumbledore. Await my summons."

Severus rose, muscles sore from the Cruciatus Curse and stiff from hours of sitting on the floor. He managed a bow, then turned and walked away. He felt Voldemort's eyes on his back and the trailing fingers of awareness brushing against his brain. He held his thoughts in layers until he'd walked out of the shack. The door closed behind him, leaving him facing dawn and unidentified woods. _Dawn-- God, so long..._

He Apparated back to Hogsmeade.

He reappeared outside the Hog's Head.

Severus started for the door, then stopped and sagged against the wall. _Not yet._ Once he entered the tavern, Aberforth would summon the headmaster. Then he would have another report to deliver, and the game would begin in earnest.

He'd survived. It should have been a relief.

His head ached. His mind was slick with Voldemort's touch. His muscles ached-- _hell, my_ bones _ache_. The better he succeeded in playing the loyal servant, the worse his role would become.

He laughed shortly. It was a sad commentary when suffering was the best outcome.

Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix were little improvement. He shook his head, thinking of the Unbreakable Vow-- _loyalty to Dumbledore-- obedience._ Severus had never considered himself an idealist; he'd not changed sides in the name of the greater good. He'd not even followed his friends-- _every friend I cherish would happily execute me for treason to the Dark Lord._ He'd not changed sides out of guilt. He'd not even changed sides because he thought Dumbledore's side would win. In the end, he'd changed sides out of misguided passion for Sirius Black. 

It had earned him nothing. He'd sentenced himself to playing the double agent for no more reason than misguided nobility. _Nobility? Call it stupidity instead._

Whatever stupidity had possessed him, he'd thrown his lot in with Dumbledore. He would die for it; they all would. The Potter brat had little chance of defeating Voldemort. The best Severus could hope for from the others on "his side" was neutrality. They were none of them his friends.

Severus dragged himself away from the wall, muscles screaming in pain.

Thinking made it no better. It was best to move on-- best to face Aberforth's glares, best to face Dumbledore's useless sympathy.

The door was unlocked; the common room was empty. Aberforth Dumbledore was wiping down the bar. None of it surprised him. Aberforth paused-- looked up with a glare, followed by a brief nod. Severus' mouth quirked; he wished it hadn't. Even his cheeks hurt.

"You call him yet?" Aberforth said. His voice was low.

No greeting; Aberforth was another on Severus' list of "not friends." "No."

"Huh." Aberforth wiped at the bar a few more times, then let the cloth drop. He moved a few paces to the left, then reached under the bar. A gesture, and a silver glowing shape took form: four legs, bearded. It was so vividly realistic Severus expected to hear it baa. It moved swiftly through the wall.

Severus feared no one. He prided himself on being a cause of terror. He'd never asked-- and never commented on-- Aberforth Dumbledore's Patronus. Asking might earn an answer. Instead-- "Same room?"

Aberforth nodded.

Severus walked across the room and struggled up the stairs. He walked to the end of the hall and pushed open the door. He stepped in, closed it behind him. There was a single bed against the wall to his right, coverlet showing the visible lumps of the too-old mattress. To his left, the wall was dominated by a tall oak wardrobe; the doors were plain, visibly gouged with age. Next to the wardrobe, there was a chair that matched those in the Hog's Head's common room. Opposite him, a small, grimy window looked down on the street below. 

He looked for a moment at the bed and at a hard chair in the corner. He would have killed to lie in the bed, lumps, rough bedding, and all. He took the chair instead. He felt the back digging into his shoulder blades. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

All too soon, he heard a muffled crack. He kept his eyes closed.

A few minutes, and he heard the creak of the hallway floorboards, and the sound of approaching footsteps. He heard the clatter as the doorknob turned, and the soft creak of the hinges as the door opened, then closed. More footsteps followed.

Surrendering, he opened his eyes.

Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed watching him. The blue eyes cut through him as keenly as Voldemort's red ones had done. With the gaze came the force of Dumbledore's Legilimency. Severus' headache surged. 

Dumbledore's words were mild. "Severus, I'm glad to see you unharmed."

"Headmaster." _"Unharmed" is such a strong word. "Alive" is more accurate._ The thought must have transferred; Dumbledore flinched.

"He believed you, then."

"Not entirely, no."

"Severus--" He heard apprehension in Dumbledore's voice. He was Dumbledore's pet spy-- in essence, a tool. He didn't delude himself otherwise.

Severus did not bother to guard his tongue. "He will watch me. He will watch all of us. Me, perhaps a bit more closely. He knows you sent me there. He will have specific information to pass to you, and he will expect me to do it. Other information he will expect me not to give you. And, as I am not trusted, still other information he will not share at all."

"It is a dangerous role."

Severus shook his head. "And you require someone to fill it."

"I wish there were something I could do to make it easier for you." Dumbledore's voice was filled with concern. Severus was tired enough he almost believed it.

_Death would make it easier._ "I know."

"I need to know the rest. What he asked you-- what you told him."

Severus gave a single ironic snort. His head hurt; his muscles ached. His throat was raw and dry. His brain might as well have been boiled. He couldn't have managed the simplest of potions-- even holding a knife was beyond his motor control. _Great price; no reward._. 

He went through it all: Cruciatus Curse, Pettigrew, Voldemort's Legilimency prying at his mind. He went through it once, then twice, then a third time, reciting every word Voldemort had spoken, detailing every expression, every gesture. Dumbledore questioned him closely-- picking at details. Finally, he sighed.

"I am sorry, Severus, to keep at this so long."

His eyes burned. His sinuses felt scraped clean. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, now.

"I know you are exhausted"-- the sort of phrase which came with a caveat-- "but thank you for taking the time to describe it. I'll let you rest, but you need to know what has passed."

Severus waved a weary hand.

"I've heard from Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, and the others I sent Sirius to contact. I am gratified by their willingness to assist. Still, it is not enough. I had hoped Fudge could be persuaded--"

Severus snorted. "There was little chance of that." He frowned when his voice cracked on the words.

"Very little. I know. But it was worth the effort, and I thank you for making the attempt." _Much good it did me._ "In the interim, we have few allies-- only those who remain from before-- perhaps a few others we can persuade of the threat. And we have you."

Severus' mouth twisted. "And do you trust them with your life?"

Dumbledore sighed. "With my life? Yes." _Of course._ "With yours, no." Severus' muscles tensed. "I have reason to trust _you._ Aberforth, I can rely on. The others-- I would like to trust them, Severus. I would like to trust my staff. We need them all-- we need more than that. But I trusted Peter Pettigrew. I trusted him too far. We cannot take that risk again. So, before you report to them, you will report to me. In my absence, you may rely upon Aberforth. You are too valuable to lose." 

Severus' throat tightened. He drew in a painful breath. _Secrets within secrets._ He couldn't claim he'd not agreed; he had.

"This is a difficult role, Severus. I have absolute faith in your ability to play it."

Severus closed his eyes. Darkness helped the pain. _What to feel? Flattered? Perhaps._ In truth, he felt as if he'd plunged to the bottom of a well-- trapped, alone, no way out. "What else?"

Dumbledore's voice came as if from far away. "Sirius Black has volunteered his family house as a meeting place for the Order." Severus' eyes snapped open. "It has advantages. It's unplottable, and possesses every defense his ancestors could devise. With the Secret Keeper charm, it should be impenetrable."

Severus shook his head. He remembered the house; he'd visited Regulus there.

He'd found Regulus' body there.

"And how far do you trust Sirius Black?" The confrontation in the hallway-- it seemed days ago, now-- sprang to mind. "He's best not entrusted with secrets. His mind is too open."

Dumbledore's lips pursed. His voice was chiding. "Occlumency is not everything, Severus. I trust Sirius as much as I can trust any man not sworn to me. He would never willingly betray me-- and he would never willingly betray Harry Potter."

"Ah."

"That's enough for now, my boy. Come back to school when you've rested. I need to return before my absence is noted." Dumbledore rose. He met Severus' eyes; Severus shied away from the sympathy he read there. Dumbledore seemed about to speak, then didn't. He walked across the room, opened the door, and walked out. The door swung to behind him.

Severus sat for a few minutes more, then fought his way out of the chair. He took the necessary pace over to the bed and fell upon it, drawing his knees against his chest. The cheap cotton scratched against his cheek. He had scarcely the time to note it before he fell asleep.

***

[1 July 1995]

The first Order meeting went exactly as poorly as Severus had expected. _The power of pessimism-- or realism._ Severus had very deliberately arrived at the last possible moment.

He stared up, watching as 12 Grimmauld Place formed itself before his waiting eyes. It was in the older part of Mayfair, and should have been reddish brick. Instead, the brick was blackened-- with soot, grime, or, most likely, by deliberate design. _I'm sure one of them decided the Blacks had to live in a black house._

He mounted the steps; knocked.

The door was opened by a house-elf, emaciated, bent.

"Please enter, Master Snape," it said.

He stepped forward past it. As the door closed, sinking him in the unlit gloom, he heard, "Mistress liked you, nasty little half-blood that you are."

He froze a moment, then moved on. He remembered this house-elf-- it had once been saner, but no less contemptuous. "Where are they, Kreacher?"

"This way. Kreacher will show you to Master, yes he will. Mistress would cry to see what the filthy boy is doing to her house, yes she would." Kreacher conducted him through the hall-- had it always been so dark?-- and gestured at a door. 

Severus heard the buzz of conversation behind the closed door. He opened it and stepped into the room. 

The conversation died. _Ah. My welcome._

They sat around the table-- Molly and Arthur Weasley, Dumbledore, Fletcher, Moody, Lupin, Black, Arabella Figg, Minerva McGonagall, and two others he remembered from his classes-- Kingsley Shacklebolt and a Metamorphmagus who could only be Nymphadora Tonks. _Where's Aberforth?_

Lupin rose from the table and approached him, holding out his hand. "Severus."

Severus eyed the outstretched hand, letting it hang as long as he dared. He forced himself to reach out and take it. He felt his lips pull back in a sneer. "Lupin."

"Let me introduce you."

Severus glanced around the room. "Not necessary, Lupin. I am familiar with everyone here. I do believe they're all familiar with me."

"Wotcher, Professor Snape," said Nymphadora Tonks; her hand lifted in a weak wave. Her hair was a shade of orange that caused his eyes to bleed. He remembered her vividly-- and not just for her changing features-- she had been one of the few Gryffindors to voluntarily endure seven years of his Potions courses.

Moody glared in his general direction. Artificial eye and all, it might have worked, but Severus' eyes caught on Moody's uneven haircut. His lips twitched. _Yes, hard to be intimidated when I've seen Moody trussed up and without the lot of his accoutrements. So much for "Constant Vigilance!"_

"Well, well. The bat has arrived. Aren't you concerned about emerging from your dungeons? The sunlight might turn you to dust." It was Black, of course. His voice was still blasted, too broken to manage the lazy drawl the insult demanded.

Still, it was firmer ground. "Speaking of being afraid to emerge, may I assume you'll be spending the rest of the year in this house, Black? I may not be a vampire, but I guarantee the Ministry is aching for the opportunity to convert you into a mindless zombie. Well, not that 'mindless' is much of a change for you."

Black's eyes narrowed and he half-rose out of his chair. 

Severus was intent on him. He could see the others out of the corner of his eye, but they scarcely impinged upon his consciousness.

The sound of a throat clearing jerked his attention back. "Severus, now that you're here, we can begin." He found himself meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

He pressed his lips together and made his way to the open seat between Tonks and Fletcher.

"Let's begin."

Moody asked about Aberforth; Dumbledore professed ignorance. Severus cut off the Weasleys' attempt to babble about the Potters and the Longbottoms and their dire fates; Black apparently couldn't decide whether to be grateful or infuriated. 

It was a motley crew. As the meeting wore on, Severus felt progressively less hopeful and grew more silent. The meeting itself told him nothing new, and he amused himself by covertly watching his compatriots. Much discussion centered about the wretched Potter boy. Should they set up watches? 

Severus tuned out the discussion and tried, instead, to decode the reasons the others had joined Dumbledore's Order.

Minerva McGonagall fancied herself a legendary heroine-- a modern day Boadicea, perhaps. That explained her presence. She was twittering on about how the Potter brat needed protecting.

Arabella Figg was being soothing. Apparently she'd been watching the boy for years. The woman smelled of cats. McGonagall gave her an open smile-- _here kitty, kitty._ He was almost ashamed of himself for thinking it.

Molly Weasley was all in favour of protecting Potter. _In fact, she's all in favour of smothering him. Not that I wouldn't approve._ He doubted the Weasleys would be of much use in the battle unless the Order had a dire need for fertility charms.

Black expressed a desire to let Potter alone. Molly Weasley glared at him. _Spare us from Potter's coddling would-be parents._

Lupin tried to soothe both parties. _What a shock._

He'd been asked a question; he did a quick mental replay. "If you must set a watch, do it in pairs. I cannot be involved. No, Black, spare me your idiocy. Do you think the Dark Lord would not know it if you set me to watch him? What do you hope to accomplish?"

Tonks said she'd be happy to do a shift-- even suggested teaming up with "Remus." There was a hitch in her voice as she said the name. _That makes that clear._ Severus glanced over at Lupin-- very controlled, but just a hint-- _So._

Moody growled. Not that he didn't think the boy should be protected, but the focus should be on crushing Death Eaters. _And would you really like to take me on, Moody? I wonder._

Fletcher was willing to put in a watch, though he thought he could go it alone. _Just concerned that a second watcher will interfere with his black market activities. The Dark Lord would string him up by his thumbs; I'd like to watch._

Shacklebolt was silent. He agreed to provide a watch, but contributed nothing else to the discussion. _Why him? Was he Moody's protegé?_

The discussion dragged on for over an hour, working out shifts. Then another hour-- on recruiting, the next meeting time. They finished with everyone's Patronus charm (Arabella Figg excepted), so they could identify each other's sendings. Dumbledore's phoenix. Tonks' eagle. Lupin's rooster-- _fond of sunrise, are you, wolf?_ Black's hippogriff-- _trust Black to choose something ridiculously huge._ Moody's mongoose-- _symbolic, that._ McGonagall's tabby cat-- _proud of ourselves, aren't we?_. Molly Weasley's shrew-- _appropriate._ Arthur Weasley's rabbit-- _even more so._ Fletcher, after a few grumbles, produced a magpie. Thinking of his long ago sorting ceremony, Severus produced his serpent. He glared at Black, silently daring the comment. It didn't come. _The expression says it all, really._

Dumbledore dismissed them. Severus waited as the others filed out, not wanting to be caught in conversation. Only Black remained. Severus made a motion to rise.

"Hold on, Snape. I want to talk to you."

"I can't imagine why I would care what you want," Severus said, but he sank back down into his seat. "What, then?"

Black drummed his fingers against the tabletop. "Kreacher says you used to run tame around here."

Severus shrugged, leaning back in a deliberate show of nochalance. "An exaggeration. I was here a few times at the invitation of your brother."

"Close enough." Black's grey eyes were intent on him. "He says you were here the day Regulus died."

Severus stiffened. "I suppose I was, yes."

Black leaned back, exhaling explosively. "Did you kill him?"

_Well, that was direct._ "He was dead when I found him."

"Was he really?" Black's eyes narrowed.

_Stop trying to menace me; I have faced down the Dark Lord. You've got nothing on him._ "It is of little moment to me _what_ you believe, Black. It is not to say I wouldn't have killed him had he been alive when I arrived. I would have. But he was already dead."

"Why?"

Severus shook his head. _Why on earth does it matter now?_ "I assume someone else killed him. Your cousin Bellatrix, perhaps. She seemed to enjoy that."

Black slammed both fists to the table. "No, I mean _why_ would you have killed him? You put enough effort into cultivating him."

Severus snorted. "Cultivating him? Herbology, Black? No. Regulus betrayed the Dark Lord, as you are apparently unaware. I'm uncertain _what_ he did, but we were sent out in force after him. I was sent here as we were... friends... of a sort. I would have killed him, but I didn't have the opportunity."

Black's eyes opened wide. "He betrayed Voldemort?"

"Quite. Over his head, one presumes." Severus had never known why Regulus had done it; betraying Voldemort was the height of stupidity. _I should know._

Black's expression changed. "Why do you think it was Bella?"

Severus shrugged. "She would have earned favour for it."

"So that's why you--" Black stopped, pressed his lips together.

He might as well have said it. Black was thinking it in vivid detail. Severus answered. "That's why I met you in the bar. I wanted to find out what you knew-- when you'd last seen him."

Black's eyes shut. His head tilted back. He whispered, "God, but I am an idiot."

Severus sneered. "Oh, I've never disputed _that,_ Black," he breathed.

The fury exploded in Black's mind; Severus was almost knocked flat by the force of it. "Get out," Black snapped.

"With pleasure." Severus rose, turned, and swept out the door. He ignored Kreacher's dire mutters as he swept past the house-elf, out to the street, and Apparated back to his dreary house in Halifax.

Subsequent Order meetings were much the same-- dull, seemingly endless. They were also hostile, at least for Severus. Moody glared. Molly Weasley protested vocally whenever he opened his mouth. Of course, she did the same to Black. As for Black, he and Severus either pointedly ignored each other or exchanged insults. Lupin looked over the both of them mildly in a near-flawless imitation of Dumbledore. 

The only real change in circumstance was that Black was increasingly likely to smell of Firewhiskey, and that he had to dodge the obnoxious Weasley children and, shortly thereafter, the Granger girl as well. He took particular delight in the destruction of Extendable Ears-- _we have the Weasleys to thank, no doubt_. That few others even noticed the Ears did not bode well for the future of the Order as a secret organisation.

The tedious-- yet tense-- Order meetings alternated with Death Eater summons. At those, he saw old friends. He used every trick of Occlumency to guard his thoughts. At times, the Dark Lord used an excuse to strike him with the Cruciatus Curse. Voldemort never succeeded in penetrating Severus' mental barriers; Severus prided himself on it.

As for the rest, he knew only the current main objective-- freeing the captive Death Eaters from Azkaban. Voldemort was intent on it. He wanted his loyal Death Eaters.

Severus wanted them, too-- preferably drawn and quartered. Seeing Bellatrix Lestrange die was one of Severus' great ambitions. She'd been by far one of the most devoted and powerful of Voldemort's supporters. She was also a powerful Legilimens and Occlumens-- the Dark Lord's protegée. He had no desire to dodge a second Legilimens.

***

[6 August 1995]

The early-August dementor attack on Potter shocked everyone.

Severus learned about it after the fact, when the Potter boy was already ensconced at Grimmauld Place.

The rest of the Order didn't evince much belief at his insistence that the Death Eaters were as shocked as they. The way Moody's artificial eye moved said Severus had best watch his step.

"Look, I'm not saying one isn't responsible. It could very well be a secret plot of Pettigrew's," Severus said. Black winced. Lupin's face turned very still. "I am saying that it is not the current focus, and the Dark Lord is unlikely to countenance anything that draws attention to the dementors and Azkaban.

"As for other operations, as expected, the Dark Lord is sending envoys to the giants, the werewolves, the vampires--" Severus gestured on the map, pointing at separate areas. "If you wish to counter his influence, you will have to work at it, and work very seriously at it. The Ministry has not been a friend to any of them, and your usual brand of do-gooder rhetoric will not do it. You'll have to offer them some concessions."

Shacklebolt broke in. "We don't have the authority to promise them anything, Snape."

"No, well, the Dark Lord does. Find a way to gain some, or you will be facing them."

"He's right, you know," Lupin said. "The werewolves are bitter and angry. I've made little headway."

And, again, more wrangling. More talk. More whinging about their helplessness in the face of better-organised evil.

Severus shut his mouth as the Order talked about representation. _At least the Potter brat is here; saves them the trouble of guarding him._ Lupin, to the werewolves again, directed to spout more do-gooder rhetoric. Hagrid had already been sent to the giants-- _hard to imagine what his pitch would be-- "help the Order... have strange pets?"_ The vampires-- Shacklebolt? Moody? The discussion went back and forth.

"I'll go," Black said.

A storm of protest rose-- everyone concurred that Black's suggestion was completely unsuitable. Black crossed his arms over his chest, looking sullen.

And so it went; they finally decided on Moody. No one else could be spared.

Severus' private meetings with Dumbledore were more productive. Dumbledore believed his intelligence. Dumbledore knew that for some reason the dementors had gone after Harry Potter, and, against all reason, Voldemort had not sent them.

Severus thought it was one of his fellow Death Eaters trying to curry favour-- MacNair, perhaps, or Pettigrew, presuming he could manage it. Dumbledore thought it was the Ministry.

_Just what this war needs-- a third side._

***

[29 August 1995]

Severus got an excellent example of the "third side" a few weeks later.

It was unheard of for Dumbledore to hold faculty meetings prior to start of term. All the standard instructors knew each other perfectly well. As for temporary faculty-- also known as the latest Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor-- there was no particular need to even learn the name.

Whomever it was would be in and then gone without leaving any sort of lasting impression.

Besides, they all had so little time blessedly free of students. Still, here they sat, three days before the Hogwarts Express was to arrive. Flitwick was grumbling that his much anticipated beach holiday had been cut short. Severus tried very hard not to picture his coworker in a bathing costume.

They sat there, in the Great Hall, looking at Dumbledore, waiting.

"After last year's events, I thought we should discuss how best to arrange matters this year. Hufflepuff in particular may suffer the loss of Hogwarts' champion in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Several of our students may have chosen not to return in the wake of events." 

Severus looked over at Sprout. Her brows drew close; her lips pressed together. "I've heard little of that," she protested.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It is something we would be best advised to prepare for."

McGonagall frowned. "Most parents surely realise that students are as safe at Hogwarts as anywhere-- if not safer."

"Yes, because students have thus far been dying in droves outside Hogwarts," Severus said.

Sprout gasped. Flitwick said, "Here, now." Trelawney trilled something about the Grim. Binns apparently hadn't even noticed the conversation.

McGonagall glared at Severus. " _That_ was uncalled for, Severus," she snapped, crossing her arms before her chest.

Dumbledore sighed. "It was not well phrased, perhaps, but he is correct. And, despite rumors of what actually happened, the Ministry has put about that Cedric Diggory died in a tragic accident, perhaps caused by the carelessness of Harry Potter. I am certain I am not alone in hearing them."

_Hard to miss them when they appear in every Daily Prophet._ Still, it wasn't enough to explain the reason why they'd been summoned. They'd faced a similar dilemma after the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. He stared at Dumbledore, waiting.

Dumbledore braided and unbraided his fingers. _Something is very wrong._ "There is one thing more. Cornelius Fudge has been so good as to lend us a member of his staff to be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. The Minister also informs me that she may be evaluating our curriculum. It has been a long time since it has been reviewed, and it may not accurately reflect the standards tested in OWLs and NEWTs.

"I've had the privilege of making the acquaintance of Miss Umbridge. We met at a Ministry inquiry into unauthorised underage use of magic. I'm certain you recall coverage of Mr Potter's use of the Patronus charm. In any case, Miss Umbridge is a woman of undoubted conviction. I hope you will all render her every assistance."

Severus provided his own mental translation. _Hogwarts has been assigned a narrow-minded Ministry spy who will do her damndest to make our lives miserable. Watch out._

Severus glanced covertly around the room. Most of the other instructors were quickly reaching the same conclusion he had. _Good Hagrid's still out; he'd take it at face value._

"They can't do that." McGonagall was practically spitting. 

"There, there. I'm certain Miss Lumber will do nicely," said Binns. _Not that you'll recall one way or another._

Trelawney rolled her eyes back into her head, waving her arms before her. Hooch dodged neatly out of the way. Flitwick, her other neighbour, was happily short enough that her flailing arms passed above his head. _Wait for it..._ She spoke in a wavering voice. "I see grim, grim days ahead." _Score one for the old fraud._

The candlelight glinted off Dumbledore's spectacles. "I'm certain you will all want to make preparations for Miss Umbridge's arrival. Her able assistance is, of course, welcome."

Severus provided another mental translation. _Figure the hell out how you're going to avoid her and do it fast._ He wondered how bad it could possibly be, then banished the thought as an ill omen.

***

[1 September 1995]

The woman was a toad.

She was fat and squat and spoke in a high little-girl voice.

As a Ministry appointee, she would be worse than Dumbledore's usual complement of Defence Against the Dark Arts instructors. By which Severus meant she would be worse than useless.

He'd not watched her during the sorting, too intent on who was to be inducted into Slytherin. He'd directed more than a few glares at the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table, who continued in their usual habit of hissing Slytherin first-years. He'd directed another glare or two in the direction of Potter and his compatriots on general principles. He'd smiled at the official naming of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson as the Slytherin prefects. That over, he watched his new colleague closely. When she rose and interrupted Dumbledore's welcoming speech, he knew that Dolores Umbridge would be worse than anything he'd imagined.

He felt his mouth pulling up into his practised Welcoming Feast sneer. He suppressed it. The Ministry already had sufficient reason to watch him; he hardly needed to provide another.

And the toad continued to speak. Not that the idiot children had learned anything over the past several years (well, perhaps from Lupin who was at least marginally competent), but they'd learn even less this year. Misinformation was clearly the order of the day.

_Yes-- that's the philosophy: if you don't teach them, they won't need to know._

And yet she continued. The students weren't listening either. More fool they. Severus wasn't "listening," but, then, he understood her very well.

If anything, Dolores Umbridge posed a greater threat to his well-being than even Voldemort. He applauded lazily as she finally wound up her speech.

The upside was that Umbridge would probably be crushed incidentally.

He hoped he could watch. 

Or, if he happened to be standing next to Voldemort at the time, perhaps he could take care of her himself. Even Dumbledore wouldn't object.

Much.

In the meantime, it was going to be a long term.

***

[2 September 1995]

The first day of classes began with Severus' first session with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first-years.

He opened the classroom door to the sound of chatter and laughter. He lifted his chin and swept in, letting the door fall closed behind him. As he passed each row of tables, all of the children fell silent behind the sweep of his robe.

Reaching the front, he turned smoothly on his heel. He gave them all a practised glare, scanning each row, locking his eyes for a fraction of a second on each student. As his eyes hit, each student stiffened-- still in his seat.

The right corner of his mouth curved up in satisfaction as his eyes reached the last student. 

He spoke softly; they were straining to hear him as he went through the roll call. By the next day, he would remember all of their names. 

Roll done, he began his welcome speech, still whispering. "You are here today for your first introduction to the art of potionmaking. Potions calls for exactitude-- learning to understand the ingredients, the motions, the subtle art that weds them together. Your wands are as nothing here. I can teach you brews of far more power than you have ever imagined-- tinctures of life and death, love and hate, luck and misery." He glared around the classroom again. Most were terrified; others fascinated. "And the lot of you are undoubtedly fool enough to think shiny wands are true magic." Many Ravenclaw eyes narrowed-- _Good._ He'd targeted the speech for them. They were always among his best students, with their love of knowledge for knowledge's sake.

Severus had come to Hogwarts as an escape-- a way to avoid the monotony of brewing Potions that any dunderhead could brew, a way out of his mother's house, a way out from under Voldemort's thumb. He'd never considered the teaching itself as anything but a burden to endure.

But he'd always wanted power-- craved it. This was power. And he'd learned no one could give him power-- it was something he had to create. _Power is something you take._

***

With start of term, Severus began taking long walks by the lake. He took them on random days, at random times of day, and carefully staggered lengths. He caught Umbridge following him as covertly as her short legs could manage. He ignored her. After a few walks, she seemed to decide he simply liked to walk.

The other professors appeared to have devoted less time to avoiding Umbridge's observation, despite the advance warning. McGonagall could be seen to stomp through the corridors with Umbridge talking at her. Flitwick and Sprout were actually attempting to be friendly. Binns and Trelawney inhabited planes too disconnected from reality to be wary. Sinistra simply avoided Umbridge whenever possible.

It was not long before Umbridge's observations and evaluations began. Severus watched with some amusement the results of Umbridge's evaluation of the other instructors. McGonagall, in particular, had been incensed.

Hagrid still hadn't returned. Severus couldn't help anticipating Hagrid's first encounter with Umbridge-- he held out some hope that one of Hagrid's disastrous pets would eat her alive.

In the meantime, Potter managed to get himself assigned repeated detentions with Umbridge-- more than he'd ever earned from Severus-- _Quite an accomplishment._

Yet, no summons from Voldemort came. The walks were still a useful way to escape for rare Order meetings, but his sudden isolation from his main source of useful intelligence frightened him. Of course, it could simply be that Voldemort knew he would have a difficult time escaping Hogwarts, particularly with the detestable Umbridge present. Still, he wondered. What was he missing?

Draco Malfoy actually stayed after class one Monday and followed Severus back to his office to complain about Umbridge. "Sir, we're not learning anything. She won't let us use our wands."

"I fail to see what you want me to do about that, Draco."

Draco widened his grey eyes, and Severus casually skimmed his mind. _I think not, Draco. I have some sense of self-preservation._ "You could teach us, sir. My father says you're very skilled." _I'm certain he does. They'd never have accepted me otherwise._

"I think not, Draco. I'm certain you have the wits to understand why." _Think, boy. You're a Slytherin. You understand politics-- power-- control._

"My father could--"

Severus shook his head. "Your father will do nothing, Draco. Nor will I. Neither of us is interested in Ministry scrutiny."

"We could just set up practises--" Draco looked up beseechingly.

_Sometimes, I think he's as thick as Potter._ "I'd hardly recommend it. Might I suggest that crossing Dolores Umbridge is exceedingly unwise."

Draco's smile dropped away. For the first time, he appeared to be seriously considering what Severus had said. _Good, boy. That's it._ Think _for once. God knows you've been parroting Lucius for years. If you keep it up, you won't like where it leads you._

***

[7 October 1995]

After teaching fourteen years, classes tended to blur together. From time to time, he had a standout student (usually, they stood out due to their sheer awfulness), which made the lessons marginally more interesting (or significantly more dangerous, depending).

Today, however, he had the toad.

And, not only the toad, but the fifth year Gryffindor/Slytherin double Potions class. 

The presence of the toad made Severus long for the presence of Gilderoy Lockhart-- ego, incompetence, midgets, and all. In fact, he would have gladly exchanged a student (preferrably Neville Longbottom) to have Lockhart teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts instead of Umbridge.

Whatever else Lockhart had done, Severus had been spared his presence while in his own classroom.

Not so the toad, who was observing the class with her version of special "hem hem" noises and "helpful" suggestions on how to make his lessons as useless as hers. _She'd probably prefer me teaching them to boil water. On the other hand, boiling water might conceivably be a weapon, especially in Longbottom's hands, so perhaps not._

Having endured a double lesson of her scrutiny, he had to face the questions-- questions to which any Ministry official with half a brain obviously knew the answers: wasn't he teaching potions a bit too powerful to the students; how long had he been teaching at Hogwarts; did he apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position; why didn't Dumbledore award it to him? She was clearly displeased with his terse responses.

Severus doubted she'd be happier if he elaborated. As he spoke entirely truthful answers, he imagined her toad face gasping in amphibious shock at somewhat more sensational ones. He kept the monologue running in his head. It kept him from tearing her head off. _Of dubious benefit._

"My class _is_ very advanced. Some of them might even be competent. Based on what I hear of your courses, competence is a concept you're unfamiliar with. 

"I've been teaching at Hogwarts since a bit after I betrayed the Dark Lord. Why, yes, I do consistently apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I can't imagine anyone more qualified to speak on the Dark Arts than myself, though I suppose the Dark Lord might manage it.

"The headmaster doesn't let me teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, first, because I might find the freedom to cast Dark Arts spells too tempting. I certainly find them extremely tempting at this moment. Second, he doesn't let me teach it because the position is cursed. Since he won't hire me, he selects whomever I recommend for the position. I've recently selected those whom I would most enjoy seeing meet with an accident by the end of term. Gilderoy Lockhart's problems were particularly entertaining. I borrow the headmaster's Pensieve to watch them on particularly trying days. I realise I had nothing to do with your appointment, Madam, but I expect to celebrate whatever accident or series of accidents befalls you.

"The Ministry would like to understand my background? Excellent. I amuse myself inventing Dark Arts spells. I'm a sadist, and part of the Dark Lord's attraction was the idea of inflicting exquisite tortures on my enemies. Would you like a demonstration? I don't appreciate the way you're encroaching on my carefully cultivated reputation as the most despised teacher in the history of Hogwarts."

If he imagined her bleeding from a thousand cuts, even the best of men could hardly condemn him.

And, if he gave Potter no marks on his latest Potions disaster-- _should have been paying attention, Potter_ \-- it was no more than the twit deserved. It was all Potter's fault he was here in the first place, attempting to be _polite_ to the idiot woman. _Well, Potter's fault and Black's fault._ Unfortunately, he couldn't deduct points from Sirius Black. 

He assigned Potter an essay to make up for it.

***

[12 October 1995]

The rest of October and November were much the same-- added Educational Decrees from Dolores Umbridge, wailing and gnashing of teeth from the other instructors. Severus himself had learned to look upon the latest encroachments with an ironic eye. As long as Umbridge stayed out of his classroom, he would keep his mouth firmly shut. He'd had years of practise keeping his own counsel.

Voldemort still hadn't summoned him. The Order members still didn't trust him. 

Potter remained irritating, Granger remained pedestrian, and Neville Longbottom remained explosive. If the Slytherin students had come up with a way around Umbridge's incompetence, they had wisely kept it well out of his sight. 

Potter and Granger's little club, however, was the subject of much discussion at a mid-October Order Meeting-- only Dumbledore, Fletcher, Lupin, Tonks, Severus, and Black himself had made the meeting-- McGonagall was distracting Umbridge, Moody was off conversing with the vampires, and Shacklebolt was busy. Fletcher's report of a meeting at the Hog's Head was garbled, but Severus had already heard a similar report from Dumbledore, courtesy of Aberforth. 

He had the same thoughts with the second report as the first, as Fletcher wended his rambling way through recounting the tale. _The Slytherins are at least smart enough not to get involved-- not, I'm certain, that they were invited._

Black's chair was leaned back, resting on two legs. He let it fall forward and grinned as Fletcher wound up his tale. "James would have been proud. They asked me about meeting places, you know."

Lupin shook his head, but he was smiling, too. "You shouldn't have encouraged them, Sirius. If she catches them--"

Severus snorted. "If she catches them, they'll be expelled. And she _will_ catch them."

Black's eyes narrowed. His voice was menacing. "Because you're going to turn them in, I take it."

Severus narrowed his eyes to slits. "No, because they understand next to nothing about concealment. A society this large-- _three_ houses-- meeting openly in _Hogsmeade_ \--"

Black barked a laugh. "You're just miffed they didn't let Slytherins in."

Severus shook his head. _Fool._ "Slytherin has its own plans. Would you care to place a bet which group will last out the year in secret? I'd be thrilled to take your money off your hands."

"Yes, you would be. You never had much, did you?"

Lupin gasped. 

Severus flinched. He pressed his lips tightly together and clenched his fists, then forced both to smooth out. That was the one area they'd always avoided striking. Apparently that agreement no longer existed. "Not like your money has done you much good, Black," he said quietly.

The room fell silent. Black frowned, looked down at the tabletop, then met Severus' eyes. Guilt radiated from him. _Realised you went too far, did you?_

Tonks cleared her throat. Her voice rang with false cheer as she spoke. "Hey, they could use the practise."

"Indeed they could." Dumbledore's voice was serious. Severus looked over at Dumbledore, still tense from Black's last insult. _Black's always been able to get under my skin._ Dumbledore gave him a quick smile, then looked over at Lupin. "Remus, have you been making any progress with the werewolves?"

Lupin began detailing his failures to convince any of the werewolves that eating humans in service of Voldemort was not in their long-term interest.

Severus looked down at the table, quiet the rest of the meeting. The lack of communication with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters had left him little to report. He hated this. He had one role to play for the Order, and he was completely unable to play it.

He left quietly after the meeting, returning to Hogwarts and continuing his walk along the lake before going inside.

***

[2 November 1995]

Over the next month, he fell to the usual rounds of lessons and detentions. The Gryffindor-organised Defence Against the Dark Arts practise had managed to keep out of Umbridge's sights. The Slytherins also had remained undetected-- even by Severus. Admittedly, he hadn't searched.

All was as well as could be expected in a world where Voldemort was active and Dolores Umbridge was at Hogwarts. And, in the normal progression of things, that meant Quidditch.

Severus himself had never been much of a fan of sport. Oh, he was competent-- competence was necessary. He had worked very hard to achieve competence after his first appalling experience on a broom.

But Severus was by no means obsessed. _McGonagall_ was obsessed-- she'd assigned no homework to the Gryffindors the week before the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match, and given the Slytherins a double workload. It was therefore only justice that Severus had booked the Quidditch pitch for his team's practise as often as he could manage. Had anyone commented on the fact that he'd started booking the pitch a _month_ before the match while McGonagall's homework games had only begun the _week_ before the match, he would have countered with the claim that it was the only proper response for McGonagall's known Quidditch obsession.

No one took him to task.

When the Slytherin players took to hexing Gryffindor players in the corridors, it was somewhat more difficult to ignore. While publicly claiming that Alicia Spinnet had blinded herself with her own Hair-Thickening Charm, Severus privately took the Slytherin Keeper to task for performing a hex in the library in front of witnesses. "Aren't you familiar with _subtlety?_ " he demanded, glaring at Miles Bletchley.

Bletchley sat in Severus' office, watching him rather sheepishly across the desk. He grinned. "Good hex though, wasn't it, sir?"

"Yes, yes, very effective." Severus shook his head, pulling absently at his hair. "But remember, _subtlety._ Getting our Keeper kicked off the team won't help us."

"Right, sir." Bletchley nodded.

"Dismissed," Severus said. Bletchley rose, then walked out, shutting the door behind him. _Good thing I don't have a pathological need for the Quidditch cup,_ he thought, staring at the closed door. 

Intimidation tactics were thenceforth carried on in the time-honoured fashion of insults and veiled threats. Severus breathed a sigh of relief. 

Early November, and the day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin finally arrived. The Slytherins were excited; Severus, of course, retained his usual clinical disinterest. He certainly hadn't allowed himself to laugh when he overheard Pansy Parkinson teaching the Slytherins to sing "Weasley is Our King" in the Slytherin common room.

_Odd how obsessed the students can be with such a silly sport_ , he thought, winding his Slytherin scarf about his neck and pulling a green and silver flag out of his trunk. As always, he was the first instructor to arrive for the Quidditch match. _Have to be. Who knows when someone might strike at Potter again._ He waited for everyone else to find seats, then stared intently at Hooch, waiting for her to blow the whistle and release the balls. He heard the Slytherins singing faintly in the background.

The match itself progressed with the usual rancour and the commenting with its usual partisanship.

The song itself was inspired. Severus could tell precisely when McGonagall first made out the lyrics. She hissed loudly, then said, "Severus, _what is that?_ "

He glanced briefly over at her, then locked his eyes on the game. "A song, I believe." Weasley appeared to be having trouble sitting on his broom. Even Potter was looking outraged, staring first at the Slytherin stands, then at Weasley. _It's a chance-- a palpable chance. Get the damned Snitch, Draco!_

"You know what I mean, Severus! It's mean-spirited. You Slytherins, always cheating--"

He shot another glance in her direction. "Oh, it's definitely not against the rules. My team has studied the rulebook very carefully." _Good, good. They've scored on Weasley. Where is that Snitch, Draco? Potter won't stay distracted forever._

His forecast proved true; Potter was paying attention to the game again, circling the pitch. _Another score against Weasley, excellent._

"It's poor sportsmanship--" McGonagall cut herself off this time.

Severus was watching. Both Seekers had sighted the Snitch, sprinting across the pitch in pursuit. _Draco, come on. Move!_ He drew in his breath. _No! Damn it!_ Potter had outreached Draco again, scooping up the Snitch and holding it aloft, triumphant.

McGonagall cheered. "Glad to see the better team won, Severus."

He narrowed his eyes. "Really."

Crabbe struck a Bludger, and it spun directly for Potter, striking him in the back and knocking him to the ground. "Foul!" McGonagall screamed. "I hope you discipline them severely for this, Severus."

"I'm certain it was an accident," he said. _Subtlety, damn it!_ He clutched at his green and silver flag. The wooden pole broke in his hand.

Hooch was blowing her whistle; both teams were landing. Some of the Gryffindor players had rushed to help Potter to his feet. _All hail the conquering hero._ Draco Malfoy had moved closer, saying something. The Gryffindor team was all drawing closer to Potter now. The Weasley twins were now very still, staring in Draco's direction, others on the team holding their arms. _What's Draco saying?_

Potter and one of the twins were running across the pitch toward Draco; Potter hit Draco hard in the stomach, knocking him flat. Potter knelt atop the felled boy, striking him again and again. Severus lunged to his feet, vaguely aware of McGonagall joining him in a sprint off the stands to the Quidditch pitch. _God, what--_

Madam Hooch screamed, and Potter was knocked back. _Impediment Jinx,_ one part of Severus' mind catalogued as he continued to run forward. Madam Hooch continued to scream at the Gryffindor team. Potter and the rest of the team filed off the field, and McGonagall changed course, leaving him to run to the pitch alone. Reaching Draco at last, Severus stared down at him. His lip was huge, eye already turning black, and he clutched at his ribs, gasping.

"What the _hell_ did you say, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco moaned. "Nothing much. He just went mad, sir."

Severus stared at him again. He knew Draco was lying; he could see the entire scene clearly in the boy's mind. It was nothing Severus might not hint at himself to wind Potter up, but Draco should have known better. 

"You're a fool." Draco gave him a shocked look. Severus shook his head. _"Mobilicorpus."_

Time enough to discuss Draco's stupidity after seeing him to the hospital wing.

He gave Draco a thorough scolding as Pomfrey bandaged his ribs. She removed the swelling from his lip and would have gone after the blackening eye if Severus had not told her to leave it. As they left the hospital wing, Draco said, "But, sir, he'll pay more in the end."

_Spare us, please._ "Oh, he will. But do consider the cost you yourself have paid before you declare victory. Consider it very carefully. And, for the love of God, keep your head down."

He left Draco at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. It was very shortly afterward that he heard of Umbridge's added punishment-- banning Potter and the Weasley twins from Quidditch _for life._ Severus knew full well why she'd done it. As a strike, it was priceless. Umbridge detested Harry Potter-- so did Severus, for that matter. Umbridge had also been infuriated by McGonagall overriding her in reforming the Gryffindor Quidditch team. In one blow, Umbridge had struck them both. Draco Malfoy was lucky this time that Umbridge had such desirable targets. In the future, he might not be so fortunate.

***

[19 December 1995]

The first indication Severus had that something was wrong was at breakfast. 

It was the last full day before the students started Christmas holidays. Severus was looking forward to the freedom from juggling students; Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, dodging the Ministry, and dealing with Voldemort and the Death Eaters provided a full schedule without adding students and teaching. 

_Well. Not that the Dark Lord has summoned me since start of term._ It was only a pity in that he'd put so much effort into cultivating a habit of daily walks around the Hogwarts grounds at random times in order to conceal summons that had never come.

He reminded himself there was still one last day of teaching to get through, and a day when he'd be hard-pressed to get much effort out of any of his students.

His glanced around the Great Hall, starting with the Slytherin table. They were already acting as if holidays had begun; Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were pulling apart a Christmas cracker. The resulting pop produced a bird with red and green checked feathers. It circled them to general laughter. _At least I don't have any of them today. I might be forced to take points._

He moved from the Slytherin table to the Ravenclaw table-- down to the end where the first-years were gathered. They were his first class of the day. Several were opening presents, coloured wrapping sailing about. Granted, most presents appeared to be books, but the recipients were bouncing in their seats. Severus winced.

Next was the Hufflepuff table; the third years were his last class of the day. It was hardly a shock to see Christmas crackers and flying shreds of paper from them.

Last, he looked at the Gryffindors. He had the Gryffindor fifth-years as his second class of the day. The Longbottom boy had a smut on his cheek, ribbon strewn by his breakfast. He was tossing some glittering ball up in the air in front of him. _Wait for it..._ It was only a few throws before he missed a catch and it fell smack into his breakfast. 

Severus looked away, scanning automatically for his second least favourite student. It took a few passes the length of the table before Severus realised that Potter was missing. He frowned, looking again. Potter's compatriot, Ron Weasley, was also absent from the Gryffindor table. He'd then registered the less welcome absence of Fred and George Weasley. _God knows what they're up to._ Having the Weasley twins out of sight frequently meant unpleasant pranks in Slytherin's immediate future. Another scan, and he realised the Weasley girl was missing as well. Granger, however, was eating breakfast, chewing viciously at her toast.

Potter and Weasley might have easily missed breakfast-- _they're hardly stellar examples of responsibility_ \-- but having so many missing meant something odd.

He looked again; Potter and Weasley shared with Finnigan, Thomas, and Longbottom. Finnigan and Thomas were whispering to one another. The wretched Longbottom boy was practically bouncing in his chair, leaning toward them; his glittering ball was apparently forgotten in a pile of eggs.

Severus heard the familiar "hem hem's" behind him, glanced briefly in the direction of Hogwarts' resident High Inquisitor. As always, he'd chosen his seat at the staff table carefully on the opposite side of Dumbledore to Umbridge. Severus tried to stay out of her way-- _Out of sight, out of mind._ Umbridge's toad face was crunched up in a scowl; her fork tapped against the edge of her plate.

_So, the toad's annoyed, is she?_ Severus wished far worse fates on Dolores Umbridge on an hourly basis. Annoyance was risky, however-- Umbridge was petty and vindictive, and she was always willing to dipense her retribution as widely as possible.

He glanced at his fellow teachers. Whom had it been this time?

Trelawney wasn't present-- she'd made a point of avoiding meals since her negative evaluation. _More sense than I thought she had._

Flitwick looked oblivious, as did Sprout. Both were chattering to their usual neighbours. In fact, everyone looked uninvolved except--

_Yes._ McGonagall's nose was lifted slightly, her lips pressed together. She was looking very deliberately away from Umbridge. _You have thought she'd learnt last time._ McGonagall had traded a fleeting victory over Umbridge for a loss of nearly half her Quidditch team, including her star player. Severus hadn't mourned the fall of Gryffindor's Quidditch team, but he was very conscious that he might have just as easily become Umbridge's target. Umbridge was petty and small-minded, and she clearly enjoyed having power to play with.

Severus frowned. _Better McGonagall than me._ He looked away before he drew their attention.

On their path back to his plate, Severus' eyes crossed Dumbledore's, and he realised Dumbledore had been watching him. He deliberately met the headmaster's eyes. Dumbledore's mind was pushing toward his; Severus took the invitation, using Legilimency to scan Dumbledore's surface thoughts.

The images were very clear-- he saw a clock face, hands marking eight o'clock. It was followed by an image of himself sitting in a chair he recognised very well: the upstairs room at the Hog's Head. No other images followed, and he pulled smoothly out of Dumbledore's mind. 

Severus nodded his agreement. Dumbledore gave a barely perceptible nod in return, and Severus turned his attention back to his breakfast.

The rest of the day gave him some sense of what had happened.

He'd surprised the first-year Ravenclaws with an exam. He took vindictive glee in the resultant glares. They left the class still grumbling.

The Gryffindor fifth-years, by contrast, he assigned a simple potion-- a review of the Draught of Peace they'd made the first day of term. Potter and Weasley were still absent. _Trust them to find a way to fail the potion twice._

He spent most of the lesson sitting behind his desk, staring broodingly out at the class. In between the usual whispers about Severus and generalised cruelty, other whispers made it to the front of the room.

"A snake?" "Harry said it bit Mr Weasley." "How do you know?" "Seamus said." "How does _Seamus_ know?" "He was there." "What does Hermione say?" "She _wasn't_ there." "Yeah, but what does she _say?"_

Severus glanced at Granger, but her face was still and tight. She went through her potionmaking in her usual methodical fashion. Her motions were a little stiffer than usual. He had little trouble identifying the cause.

"Silence," he snapped, and the whispers were quiet for a few minutes before re-emerging. _Very interesting._

The whispers continued the rest of the day; Severus heard whispers about snakes and Potter from the third-year Hufflepuffs as they worked in groups to try to modify a simple healing potion for greater strength.

Umbrdige intercepted Severus after supper. He'd just exited the Great Hall when he heard her high, sugary voice behind him. "Oh, Severus, wait."

_Damn it._ He stopped, but did not turn around. He heard her puffing behind him, then she moved around in front of him, face red. A few hairs hung loose about her face. "Professor Snape, has Professor McGonagall spoken to you?"

Severus looked down his nose at her. "Certainly Professor McGonagall has spoken to me on many subjects at many times in the past."

Umbridge's eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed flat. An edge of irritation lurked in her girlish voice. "I _mean_ , Professor Snape, has Professor McGonagall spoken to you _today_ regarding Harry Potter?"

He gave a deliberately impatient sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot. "Of course not. I cannot imagine why Potter would be of the slightest interest to me." He tilted his head to the side, and drew his brows together in a considering frown. "However, I would have appreciated an explanation as to why he was _not_ in my Potions class today." 

Umbridge growled. She stamped her right foot. "They've removed him from the school; I'm certain they have. I would have got to Dumbledore's office if McGonagall hadn't deliberately delayed me in the corridor. I don't know what Dumbledore thinks he's doing, but--" she broke off suddenly, mouth snapping closed.

_Realised you said more than you ought, I take it?_ He twisted his mouth into a frown. "I've no earthly idea what you're talking about." He started to step to his left to go around her. "If that is all--"

Her right arm stretched out toward him. He stopped, but stayed carefully out of her range. "Professor Snape, is Harry Potter prone to fits and hallucinations?"

Severus gave her a supercilious look. "I am certain that anything making Potter the cynosure of all eyes would appeal to the boy. As you must certainly be aware, Potter is arrogant and joys in being the center of attention."

She leaned forward, whispering urgently, "But have you heard--"

He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've heard nothing of it. And you cannot imagine me as any sort of confidant." 

She frowned, her gaze unfocusing. She gave a slow nod, then a more definite one. Her eyes focused on him once more. "Thank you, Professor Snape." Her smile was broad and unconvincing. "You may go."

_Precisely whom do you think you are?_ He gave her the barest inclination of his head, then circled around her and headed for his office. He had the Ravenclaws' exams to mark before he used the opportunity of his evening walk to meet Dumbledore in Hogsmeade. 

Walking down the stairs to his office, he tried to banish Umbridge's ridiculous face from his mind. He despised the woman. Pettiness aside, Umbridge and the Ministry were proving unwitting allies of Voldemort. With their desperate desire to catch Dumbledore in an attempt to undermine Fudge, they were making Severus' life more dangerous on a daily basis.

It took an hour to mark the Ravenclaws' exams. Unusually for the class, very few students had achieved a passing mark. Severus sighed; setting an exam the last day of term seemed more of a punishment for him than for the students.

He checked the time-- a quarter to seven. He piled the examinations neatly, put away his quill and ink, and left, locking his office behind him. 

His walk out to the grounds, around the lake, and to Hogsmeade was unmolested. He had apparently allayed any suspicions Umbridge might have had.

_After her review of my teaching, she also seems to have picked me as a likely ally against Dumbledore._ He suspected he could credit Dumbledore's refusal to give him the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for Umbridge's approval despite his past activities. _Well, that and Lucius._

The common room was as full as it got for the Hog's Head; about half of the tables were full. Most people clumped in the shadows, hoods concealing their faces. Aberforth gave him a slight nod; despite a few glances in his direction, the others did not acknowledge him. It was typical of Aberforth's clientele.

Severus walked across the common room, then out and up the stairs. 

He walked to the end of the hall, opened the door, and walked in. The room was faintly lit. He checked his watch-- five minutes to eight.

He sat down on the chair to wait.

He gave a quick glance to his watch when the door shrieked open-- eight sharp. Dumbledore walked in, shut the door behind him. Dumbledore nodded a greeting, then moved silently over and sat on the bed. The springs creaked under his weight.

Dumbledore sighed. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. "I assume you've heard, Severus?"

Severus shrugged. "Some. The Potter boy, Arthur Weasley, a snake, some sort of dream or hallucination." He paused, frowned. "Umbridge was inquisitive," he added. 

Dumbledore tugged at his beard. "I had hoped, but-- there's no real hope of keeping it secret. Harry apparently had a vision. Arthur was searching the files at the Ministry on Order business; he was there alone, late at night. I don't know how Voldemort knew where he was, but he must have discovered Arthur's presence, known he was alone and isolated, and taken the opportunity to eliminate him. In Harry's vision, he was within the mind of Voldemort's snake when it attacked Arthur."

Severus narrowed his eyes. He had assumed that Potter had been talking to snakes-- _That produced enough of a problem the last time he did it._ He had also assumed the visions were invented out of whole cloth to disguise some sort of intelligence from another source. "Why would Potter have been _within_ the snake?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes were piercing. "It's where Voldemort was."

Severus leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling while he considered the possible implications. _Spiderwebs. Does Aberforth clean anything?_ He dismissed the tangent. He looked back down at Dumbledore. The only explanations Severus could muster did not please him. He started to speak, stopped. "I'd no idea there was any link."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. He seemed to be considering his words. "Harry always got warnings of a sort. Feelings. A sense of Voldemort's presence."

Severus snorted. _You can do better than that, Headmaster. You should have told me._ "Visions aren't 'feelings,'" Severus said. _If you'd told me about the feelings, I might have been able to do something._ Not for a moment did Severus entertain the idea that Dumbledore hadn't told him about Potter's feelings because Dumbledore hadn't known. No one but Potter had ever survived the killing curse, but _Avada Kedavra_ was no reason for the creation of any link between Voldemort and Potter.

Dumbledore sighed, closing his eyes. "No. They are not." He paused, drew in his breath. "I have a terrible suspicion... but, I need you to find out what you can." 

"The Dark Lord has not summoned me in months, Headmaster." _Much use I am if I cannot get any intelligence out of the Death Eaters._

"I know, Severus. If I am correct, Voldemort will almost certainly summon you soon. If I am wrong, well, there may always be another explanation. Perhaps you can learn something from Lucius."

Severus closed his eyes, considering. _And what do you think Lucius will know?_ He opened them again. "Does the Dark Lord know about the link?"

Dumbledore shook his head again. "I think he did not. I think that now he is probably aware. But I do not know, Severus. I do not know."

Severus let out his breath at once. "I will endeavour to find out." He rose, made a move toward the door. He stopped, turned back. "What about Potter?"

"Harry will be staying with Sirius Black until start of term. He should be safe enough there."

_You trust Black to protect him?_ Severus did not speak the thought aloud. Dumbledore had always credited Sirius Black with more intelligence and skill than he truly possessed. Instead, Severus gave a sharp nod. "I'd best get back before Umbridge gets suspicious."

"Of course."

Severus turned and left the room.

***

[20 December 1995]

The majority of students decamped the next day for Christmas holidays. Severus spent the morning helping frantic first-years find all of those items they urgently needed to take home for Christmas, but had inexplicably misplaced. The Slytherin prefects were similarly occupied; Pansy Parkinson looked particularly harried when she finally threw her trunk aboard the Hogwarts Express. 

Severus stood outside, watching as the doors closed on the Hogwarts Express. The whistle blew.

He breathed his usual sigh of relief, amplified by the fact that Dolores Umbridge was also departing for Christmas holidays. Apparently the Ministry functions urgently required her presence. _Good riddance._

The departure of his students brought such a bright spot to Severus' day that it was unsurprising that the Dark Mark began to burn as the Hogwarts Express was pulling away. _Timing is everything._

He scowled and began shuffling his thoughts into order. He walked swiftly to the edge of Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards. Reaching them, he touched his wand to his burning arm and Apparated. 

_New place,_ he thought, glancing quickly around. He recognised it as the second floor library in Malfoy Manor. Books with leather bindings and gold-stamped titles lined the walls. As he recalled, neither Lucius nor Narcissa had read most of them. _They probably don't know what most of them even are._ The lighting was bright. The floor was covered in a Persian carpet that he conservatively estimated at twice his annual salary. Artistically worn brown leather chairs were placed in front of the fireplace; a landscape hung above it. A fire burned in the grate. 

Voldemort stood facing the fire, his back to Severus. His skin was maggot-pale above his deep red robes.

"Very swift of you, Severus. How gratifying." Voldemort spoke without turning around, voice even and emotionless.

Severus licked at his lips. "Master." _At least Wormtail isn't here this time._

Voldemort's pale hand lifted, waved to indicate the leather chairs behind him. "Sit down."

Severus took a pace to the left, seating himself in a brown leather armchair. The leather was cool and smooth to the touch; in the part of his brain toting costs, he reckoned it at two months' salary. He slid his left hand to the front of the armrest, rubbing at the nailheads there. Voldemort's presence made Lucius and Narcissa's position clear. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Severus allowed himself to be surprised that Lucius was willing to take the risk-- not only could Voldemort's presence destroy him, but dropping the manor's anti-Apparition wards to allow Voldemort to summon his Death Eaters could easily lead to Ministry infiltration.

At length, Voldemort turned to face him. Bright light did nothing to make Voldemort's new body less frightening. His eyes glowed red above an oddly truncated nose. Grey-white skin stretched across the bones of his face. He did not speak.

Without entirely intending it, Severus found himself saying, "Master, you've not summoned me in several months."

Voldemort's head inclined; the movement seemed mechanical, each inch a separate motion. "I have not, Severus. You cannot assist in the current enterprises. You are best placed where you are."

As far as Severus knew, the only "current enterprise" was freeing the captive Death Eaters from Azkaban. He assumed that Voldemort's efforts to recruit the nonhuman races were continuing. However, he had no specifics of either plan. "If I have no news to report, they may choose to exclude me from their counsels."

Voldemort laughed; the sound was hollow. "Come, Severus. They would be fools to exclude you. Dumbledore's allies are pathetic. Without the support of the Ministry, he has precious few of any power. Several are useless agents; they cannot go out in public without attracting notice-- the werewolf, Black, Fletcher, and Moody. _You_ are Dumbledore's only powerful ally; he would be loath to discard you."

Severus did not entirely disagree with Voldemort's assessment of his fellow Order members. "Reluctant, yes, but I, too, cannot be useful to them in public, Master."

"Ah." Voldemort's lipless mouth pressed tightly closed. "I shall consider it."

Severus rubbed at the arm of his chair again, waiting quietly for Voldemort to continue.

The red eyes fixed on him, and he felt the expected pressure against his mind. "Severus, a very interesting thing happened not two days ago." Voldemort's right hand lifted, the odd bony fingers rubbing against his chin. "Explain."

Voldemort's mind remained linked with his, sifting through the images his mind produced as he replied. _Well, this answers the question about whether the Dark Lord is aware._ "I know only what I was told, Master. Dumbledore said that the Potter boy has had 'feelings' -- intimations of your reactions. For whatever reason, two days ago, he dreamt he was in the mind of Nagini as she attacked Arthur Weasley." He allowed irritation to colour his voice as he allowed memories of Potter's defiant expressions to pass through his mind. "He carried on about his prophetic abilities, as anyone might expect of the self-centered brat."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed; his mind slid through Severus'. "Go back. What happened after the dream?"

_Careful._ Severus said, "I gather Potter persuaded McGonagall to take him to speak with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was convinced the vision was authentic. They alerted others, found Weasley near death, and took him to St Mungo's."

"So." The sibilant was drawn out. Voldemort's lipless mouth twitched. "And I suppose you will tell me you were completely unaware of these 'feelings,' Severus?"

Voldemort's mind suddenly pushed hard. Severus set his chin. "Yes, I was, Master. So was Dumbledore, from what he told me." Severus was telling the whole truth for once; that would make it particularly ironic if Voldemort decided to punish him with the Cruciatus Curse.

Voldemort's mind retreated. His head inclined once more, that strange stilted movement. "Has the boy seen anything else?"

Severus pursed his lips. _Oh, probably._ "If so, Dumbledore has not told me."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Would he?"

Severus frowned, pretending to consider. _Clearly not._ "I think he would, yes. But, if the Potter boy has not told Dumbledore, Master..."

Voldemort lifted his right hand, rested it on the mantel. "Surely the boy would not keep it a secret."

Severus snorted. He shook his head. "Of course he would, Master."

"I shall have to see what to make of this." He smiled. "It may be that this mischance can be turned to advantage."

Severus steadied his mind. Dumbledore would want to know-- and, thus, he had to make the attempt to ask-- "Master, _why_ was Potter able--"

Voldemort's red eyes flashed. He turned on his heel and began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Severus assumed Voldemort wasn't going to answer, but, after a few circuits, Voldemort looked in his direction and began to speak. "It is a considerable irony, Severus. The effect was not as I'd planned." His right hand gestured, indicating his body. He kept pacing. "I had intended it to be different. The snake was not the perfect vessel, but speed was of the essence. I needed a vessel before I arrived. And I had the perfect inspiration-- I would ensure my immortality with one blow. I would destroy the boy, and, with his death, create another vessel in the Mudblood woman." He laughed. 

"In some ways, this outcome is superior, Severus, far superior. It was not without its cost, but there is irony in the knowledge that Potter cannot destroy me-- his life itself ensures my immortality. So, you see, Severus, the boy sees his 'visions' because he contains a part of my soul-- a small part. The snake contains another. I had thought the piece so tightly sealed within the boy that he was unaware of it. It seems I was incorrect. This gives me an opportunity to use, you see." Voldemort stopped, turned to face Severus, and laughed again. "So, you see, Severus," he whispered, "it is wise that you did not choose to abandon me after all."

Severus had thought that feeling the blood drain out of one's face was pure literary hyperbole. He no longer did. His face was cold, lips numb with shock. He forced himself to speak. "The boy is a Horcrux."

Voldemort nodded, eyes fixed on him. He felt the touch of Voldemort's mind against his own. Maintaining the barriers in his mind was abruptly difficult. His surface thoughts were simple shock, and Voldemort did not push, seeming satisfied with Severus' reaction.

Severus had known that Voldemort had at least one Horcrux; Voldemort had told the Death Eaters of that aspect of his plan. Severus had not known there was more than one; Dumbledore had conjectured it, but-- "How many others--?"

Voldemort shook his head slowly. "That is information you do not need to know, Severus. And do not dare to share this with Dumbledore-- not until I give you leave. You've said Dumbledore is unaware of my Horcruxes. He must uncover them, soon enough. I harbor no delusions that all of my Death Eaters are as loyal and secretive as you are, Severus. Dumbledore will learn. However, these particular tidbits-- I want to be there when Dumbledore learns the truth, Severus. I want to watch when he learns that there is no way for him to defeat me-- none. I want to be there when all his hopes of victory fade into dust."

Severus shuddered in his seat, watching Voldemort. Voldemort eyes were glowing. 

Voldemort smiled, a slow revelation of his teeth. "And now, my spy, I give you leave to return to Hogwarts."

Still under Voldemort's eyes, Severus rose to his feet and Apparated away.

Severus spent a few hours walking, considering, before making his way to the Hog's Head. What Voldemort said was very likely the truth. Harry Potter contained a piece of Voldemort's soul-- the reason for the link, and Voldemort's perfect hedge against the prophecy. Dumbledore would have to know. 

It was late enough when he arrived at the pub that the common room was empty, save for Aberforth's expected presence behind the bar. Aberforth sent off his Patronus in a moment; the silver goat slipped through the pub walls.

Severus nodded before continuing upstairs to wait. He gave a dubious glance at the bed and settled in the chair.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore had barely closed the door before Severus said, "The boy's a Horcrux, Headmaster."

Dumbledore winced. He sat down on the bed, lacing his fingers. He seemed to consider before continuing. "We knew that there had to be more than the diary, Severus. I had wondered-- well." He closed his eyes briefly, shook his head. His eyes reopened.

Severus shook his head. Hours of walking had not eliminated his feelings of hopelessness. He rose, pacing the length of the room. Severus had read everything there was to read about Horcruxes in Voldemort's library and his own. All of them spoke of the importance of choosing an enduring vessel-- something resistant to deterioration. "I would never have imagined he would choose living vessels. They're too fragile." And yet, from Voldemort's words, living vessels were precisely what he had chosen.

"We never stopped to consider, Severus, how many there might be. I assume the snake--"

"No. We had not. And, for Nagini, yes, he said enough..." Severus felt slightly sick. Horcruxes were easy enough to destroy-- under normal circumstances, all that was required was destruction of the vessel itself. _How we destroy the vessel in this case..._ Severus had to admire the masterstroke. Voldemort had turned his prophesied enemy into the perfect protector: they could not destroy Voldemort without destroying the severed pieces of his soul. And they could not destroy Voldemort's severed soul without destroying the only person who could kill Voldemort. He continued his pacing. "What do we do?"

"I'd hoped it was nothing more than a curse scar." He sighed again. "Do you believe it is possible to remove it?"

Severus laughed. "Remove it? Horcruxes are rare enough, Headmaster. The magic is seldom used, and, even then, seldom works. As for the objects-- why remove the soul when you can simply destroy the vessel? I have no idea whether it is possible to remove it."

"There's more I've not told you." _There always is._ "Sirius sent to tell me that Harry felt as if he wanted to attack me."

Severus understood the implication quite well. Either Voldemort could control the boy directly, or the piece of Voldemort's soul was infiltrating Potter's mind. Severus stopped in front of the chair, sank down into it. "So."

Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort knows of the link. Now that he does, he can use it to read Harry's thoughts, perhaps even to control him. For that reason alone... Severus--" Dumbledore broke off, looked down.

"Yes?" _I'm not going to like it._

"I need you to train Harry in Occlumency."

"He can't learn it." Severus responded before thinking. He felt heat rising in his cheeks. It made perfect sense to train Potter in Occlumency-- the boy had to learn to isolate himself. If not, the piece of soul he bore might one day possess him. Even were that not a danger, the link between the boy and Voldemort could be used to control or manipulate Potter the same way Voldemort had used the snake. He looked at Dumbledore, who was regarding him seriously.

"So quick to declare it, Severus? You're one of my best teachers."

Severus felt briefly warm at the praise. "Potter doesn't have that kind of focus." Potter had no focus whatsoever. Occlumency might possibly offer a defense, but Severus felt a sick certainty that it was a useless enterprise.

Dumbledore stared at him, blue eyes hard. "Try." Severus felt the force of the order. 

Severus flinched. "He won't learn from me, anyway. It should be you."

Dumbledore's voice was chiding. "It cannot be me, or you must know I would. I know you don't care for the boy, Severus--"

_It hardly matters whether I do or don't._ "If the Dark Lord can possess him--"

Dumbledore nodded. "I know. If he can, then we cannot use you as a spy. And yet, I feel we have no choice. Harry is more valuable than any of us."

_You mean he is more valuable than me._ It hardly came as a surprise. "I will, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed; his shoulders slumped. "Thank you, Severus." He smiled faintly. "I'll write you a letter-- ease the path, if I can."

Severus nodded. Anything to help matters along; reluctant wouldn't even begin to describe Potter's reaction, and it would never occur to Potter that Severus was equally reluctant. "Of course, Headmaster."

"You'll need to let him know." Dumbledore drew in a breath, shook his head. He looked down at his hands. "No, wait. I will leave you both to enjoy your Christmas holidays. You may start instructing him when he returns to Hogwarts."

Severus felt his stomach sink. It didn't feel like a reprieve. "All right. I'll tell him-- before he leaves Grimmauld Place."

"Thank you, Severus."

***

[25 December 1995]

Severus spent Christmas at Hogwarts, as usual. Someone always needed to be around for those children who had stayed over Christmas. 

He opened his standard short list of presents-- garish socks from Dumbledore, a rare and expensive Dark Arts manual from Lucius and Narcissa. 

His mother had moved to Italy many years before. He wondered if she still lived there. As always, she had sent nothing. 

***

[26 December 1995]

Boxing Day was occupied with another usual event-- Lucius and Narcissa's Boxing Day party. 

For politeness' sake, Severus Apparated outside the manor grounds, then walked the slow half-mile to the Manor itself. He was met at the door by one of the Malfoys' house-elves, clothed in a tea towel, cringing before him.

Severus knew full well why Lucius insisted on these celebrations. In small part, Lucius used them to cement his influence at the Ministry of Magic. Every year, the Minister of Magic was invited, along with any of those at the Ministry that Lucius had chosen to favour with his regard. In larger part, however, Lucius held these Boxing Day events for the same reason he did everything else.

Lucius had taken to the concept of being Lord of the Manor with gusto-- by which Severus meant that he'd read too many historical novels. Severus wasn't entirely certain whose character Lucius had adopted, but, knowing the man, Severus was certain some brilliant and ominous villain had lived in a manor house, wore his hair long bound back in a queue, and carried a malacca cane. This character was probably also known for his aristocratic drawl. Lucius was, after all, the consummate phony, and Severus could discern no other reason for Lucius' collection of these foibles.

In any case, Lucius had apparently read somewhere that the lord and lady of the manor were required to provide boxes of handmade biscuits to all of their dependents. As Severus vaguely recalled, the actual standard was that the family was to produce the biscuits itself, then distribute them by hand to the tenants. Being Lucius, he had broadly defined dependents as anyone he wished to have dependent upon him, and he decided dependence could better be ensured by an exclusive party. As for the biscuits themselves, Severus had no illusions about the identities of the bakers.

The portion of the tradition where the lord and lady of the manor gave their servants gifts and a holiday on Boxing Day had apparently escaped Lucius entirely, Severus thought, looking at the still-cringing house-elf.

Severus came every year because he liked the ladyfingers. The roast turkey and Christmas pudding were not half-bad either.

Severus could have done without the dancing and requisite game of charades.

He let the house-elf conduct him to the ballroom, where the noise of the other guests met him. 

He glanced around the ballroom; this year, Lucius had invited fewer Ministry officials and more Death Eaters. Fudge was in the midst of a crowd, chest puffed out as he blustered. Severus caught sight of Fenrir Greyback listening intently. _I doubt Fudge has any clue who he's talking to._

Lucius and Narcissa stood just inside the doors. Narcissa wore green silk robes, plainly and elegantly cut. Lucius wore green velvet-- with just slightly too much embroidery, and slightly too much decoration. Severus smiled and greeted them both, thanking them for the gift of the Dark Arts manual. 

"Of course." Narcissa gave him a cool smile.

Lucius gave a stiff nod. "We thought you would particularly enjoy it."

"I do, yes." He inclined his head. "How are you both? I know Draco, particularly, was looking forward to returning home for Christmas."

"Quite well, Severus." Lucius met his eyes; in them, he saw flashes of Voldemort, holding court throughout Malfoy Manor. The images came with a tangle of mixed pleasure and resentment. _Not entirely happy about giving over your house, are you?_

"We always enjoy having family home for Christmas," Narcissa said; her voice shook slightly on the word "family."

And with that, Severus understood why Lucius and Narcissa had allowed themselves to be so tightly tied to Voldemort this time-- allowed him in their house, invited Death Eaters to their gatherings. It was all for Narcissa's sister Bellatrix, _the mad murderous bitch._ Until the Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban, Voldemort held Narcissa in the palm of his hand; holding Narcissa, he also held Lucius. "I understand," he said. This was an opportunity to position himself closer to them; he would take it. He chose his words carefully-- words they wanted to hear. "It is so difficult to have family absent over Christmas." It was an easy lie.

Narcissa's blue eyes glittered with the faint shine of tears. She swallowed, then produced a faint smile.

Lucius cleared his throat, and Severus looked back at him. "Quite so." His eyes narrowed. Severus wondered if Lucius had recognised the falseness in his sympathy. It seemed not, however, as Lucius continued. " _Some_ family, however, is never quite absent enough."

Severus' brows drew together.

Lucius gave a sharp laugh. "Didn't Draco tell you? The Potter brat had a large black dog with him at King's Cross."

"No, he didn't." _You fool, Black. Couldn't resist the prank and your precious godson, could you?_

"If I see him again, I'll hardly be so sympathetic. _Do_ tell him so."

Severus pressed his lips tight. "You must be aware I've little interest in conversing with dumb animals."

"Indeed. You have all our sympathies." He smiled. "Now, Severus, we've monopolised you long enough. Mingle. Enjoy."

Severus inclined his head, murmured farewells, and moved into the ballroom, scanning the other guests.

Draco was apparently participating in the festivities this year. He, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott were clustered in a corner. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini had also apparently been invited. Their parents were present as well; Zabini's beautiful mother was laughing with another guest, her hand gracefully moving to rest against his arm. _Next victim, I take it._

He moved in the direction of the refreshments table, selecting three biscuits and a cup of mulled wine. The Malfoy house-elves produced truly superior ladyfingers, year after year.

A few hours later, they moved on to dinner, then to charades.

Draco and his classmates looked pained as the adults giggled over charades, then moved on to Sardines. As the evening wore on, the rest of the guests drank increasingly greater quantities of alcohol. More than half would probably be too drunk to Apparate home.

Severus made his excuses after eleven, then walked back across the grounds to return to Hogwarts. He'd learned only one thing of value-- that Sirius Black was still as irresponsible as he'd always been. _Fool._

***

[9 January 1996]

It was his thirty-fifth birthday. Severus doubted anyone even realised, save perhaps for the headmaster. His mother had never cared much and still did not. After Severus' father's departure, they'd ceased celebrating. Birthday celebrations were among the things she'd decreed not worth bothering with.

Not that Severus cared, of course.

Still, the history of his birthday was not an auspicious one. It was on his birthday, after all, that he'd taken the Dark Mark.

He sat alone in his rooms at Hogwarts. 

He'd bought himself a bottle of Firewhiskey to mark the occasion. _The Headmaster would no doubt disapprove._

He rolled back his sleeve, staring at the Mark as he filled his glass.

Severus threw it back, slamming the glass back to the tabletop.

_A variant of the Proteus Charm._ He lifted his right hand, traced the Mark with his index finger. _A particularly ugly variant, at that._

He'd enjoyed the years it had been invisible. He'd always known it was there, seared into his flesh. The memory had remained, even when he couldn't see it. Now it was always visible, sometimes faint and grey, ready to pulse and burn red with summoning.

His mouth twisted. He jerked his right hand away from his arm and glared at the Mark before shaking his sleeve down to cover it. 

He poured another glass of Firewhiskey and threw it back, then capped the bottle. He already regretted the impulse that had led him to purchase it. His lips drew back into a sneer. 

Sirius Black had smelled faintly of Firewhiskey at every Order meeting they'd had since moving headquarters into the Black house. 

Severus rose and dragged a book randomly from the shelf. It hardly mattered what it was. He flipped it open and began to read. A few minutes later, he replaced it in his lap, looking around blankly.

Time was running out; Christmas holidays were nearly at an end. He had two days left before he had to go to Grimmauld Place to speak to Potter about Occlumency lessons. As the end of Christmas holidays had drawn closer, he'd grown more and more irritable at the thought.

He had no choice in the matter, of course.

Potter would undoubtedly tell Sirius Black all about Occlumency. It was a very short hop from Occlumency to Legilimency, especially given that Severus would use Legilimency to train Potter. And from the realisation that Severus was a Legilimens...

Black's mind had always been so open-- so easy to read. His thoughts and feelings practically shone through him; it had been blinding. Severus had never encountered a mind so lacking in natural shields.

Severus had spent much of their brief affair scanning Black's mind. He'd started when he'd first encountered Black, drunk, sitting in a bar. He'd searched for memories of Regulus, and found none more recent than Hogwarts. He'd continued rifling through Black's mind throughout the course of their unexpected affair. He'd told himself he was searching Black's mind for information on Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix-- some brilliant piece of intelligence he could deliver to Voldemort. Instead, he'd searched through Black's fantasies, then fulfilled them, one after another. 

Instead of passing information onto Voldemort, Severus had found himself hiding his relationship with Black in the deepest recesses of his mind. It had been his first experiment in shielding something from Voldemort using Occlumency.

He'd been stunned when Black was locked in Azkaban, blamed for betraying the Potters to Voldemort. Severus had concluded the transparency that had fascinated him was nothing but a mask; he'd grown to despise both Black and himself for it.

And now he'd learnt that the transparency might have been-- was probably-- real. Black was still easy to read. Severus could hardly avoid reading him at Order meetings.

Instead of lust and fantasies, now all Severus found was fury.

Whatever Severus' conclusions about Black, it was very easy to see that Black despised Severus. Severus had felt the searing hatred washing off of Black when Dumbledore had forced them to shake hands in the Hospital Wing after Diggory's death.

_I hardly expected otherwise. I wanted him fed to the dementors._

In some ways, having read Black's fantasies seemed no worse. _But Black won't see it that way._

_I don't care. I hope it hurts._ He closed his eyes. He could still picture Black kneeling before him on the floor, mouth wrapped around his cock-- Black's eyes locked on his, mouth sliding up and down. He remembered the joy in Black's grey eyes when he had said, "I'm to be godfather." He remembered that last night, the slow and gentle sex. He remembered his mouth locked on Black's, their tongues twisting together. 

He remembered himself, sending an owl to request a meeting with Dumbledore. He'd thought himself so desperately in love. He felt sick.

_Please, God. Don't ask me why I did it-- any of it._

***

[11 January 1996]

The sick feeling reappeared two days later as Severus arrived in front of the Black house, Dumbledore's letter tucked in his robes. He walked up, opened the door, and stalked in. He had hoped to encounter Molly Weasley, or even Potter himself. Anyone, in short, who could bring Potter to him with a minimum of fuss.

He walked into the kitchen, Molly Weasley's accustomed realm. She was not present. Unfortunately, Black was. He was seated at the table, his chair leant back on two legs. His hands were braced against the edge. He looked up when Severus entered, grey eyes narrowed.

_So much for a minimum of fuss._

"What're you doing here, Snape?" Black asked. His voice was low, edges slightly rounded. _He's been drinking again._

"Black, have you seen Molly Weasley?" Severus asked.

Black's lips pressed flat together. "You didn't answer my question. Why're you here?"

_No help for it._ "I need to speak to Potter."

Black's eyes narrowed to slits. He was already radiating aggression. "Why? Harry doesn't like you; you don't like him."

Severus' shoulders tensed. He'd forgotten how quickly he could lose his composure in Black's presence. He forced himself to relax. "Headmaster's orders."

"Dumbledore's giving _you_ free rein to bother Harry? I think not." Black started up from his seat at the table.

Severus very deliberately held his ground. "Oh, sit down, Black."

The door creaked open. Severus' eyes darted over, catching Molly Weasley standing there with her mouth slightly open. _Thank God._ "Tell Mr Potter to join us, please."

Her mouth closed. She looked between the two of them, then nodded. "Of course." She turned, door creaking closed behind her.

Black's mouth was open, his arm raised-- it seemed a futile gesture to prevent Molly Weasley's departure. He dropped his arm. Severus was subjected to the full force of Black's glare. The grey eyes locked on his, filled with distaste.

It was only surprising when he recalled how much Black had wanted him, once, and how much he had wanted Black in return. He deliberately sat down at the table across from Black.

Black's mouth twisted. "Let's see those orders."

"They're written to Potter."

"I want to see them."

Severus pulled them out of a pocket, tossed them across the table. Black reached, picked them up. Severus watched as Black flipped them open and read them. He'd enough time to see the confusion crossing Black's face-- questions crowding behind his eyes, almost eclipsing the force of his projected distaste. Black's mouth fell open, and Severus wondered which question it would be. Then the door opened, the boy walked in. Black visibly relaxed.

Potter was no better at holding in strong emotion than Black. He'd often felt the boy's hatred beating at him across the classroom. Now he had two sources in the same room. Severus told the boy to sit.

That simple statement sufficed to set Black off.

Severus attempted to hold his temper, but he quickly found himself striking back at Black with a series of barbed comments. _Black's still damned easy to read._ Severus took satisfaction in each flare of temper he provoked. He forced himself to deliver the explanation and instruction to Potter. Having said it, he tried to leave.

Black's voice called after him. It brought Severus to a halt, and he spun. From that point on, it was all downhill. They tossed insults and threats back and forth. Black might have spoken in the guise of defending Potter from Severus, but Severus was not fooled. This debate had nothing to do with Potter or his father. Black was spoiling for a fight. Abruptly, Severus wanted to give it to him. 

Severus could tell the instant Black forgot Potter's presence. Every emotion had turned to pure hatred. _Clarity is a beautiful thing._ Black was moving-- out, around the table to within inches of Severus' face. Black held his wand tightly; Severus pulled his from his pocket. 

Black was issuing a threat now, and Severus met it with one of his own. He was scarcely aware of what either of them said-- Black accused him of being Lucius' lapdog; he threw Lucius' recognition of Black's Animagus form at King's Cross back in his teeth. The words were meaningless, he was intent on the emotions-- the chance, finally, to rip into Black. A few more verbal blows, striking deep: Black hated to be thought a coward, so Severus threw the accusation at him. Black's arm lifted; Severus could anticipate the spell on his lips and prepared his counter.

There was a loud yell-- _the boy_ \-- Severus vaguely registered his attempt to come between them. 

Black had lost all semblance of control. He was yelling, and Severus continued goading him. _Good. Do it._ But now, the atmosphere was changing. Severus felt a surge of desire, and he felt a matching surge breaking through Black's fury.

_Well, well._

The boy was trying to calm them, but he had little idea of what history he stood athwart. Severus wanted to shove Black hard against the wall, witness be damned. Black licked at his lips, meeting Severus' eyes.

Severus' lips parted. _This changes things. It changes them completely._

Abruptly, Arthur's voice came, breaking the moment. With him, he brought the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione Granger, and it was lost. The crowd of arrivals were chattering on, catching the tension in the room, drawing the right-- and wrong-- conclusions.

Severus felt nothing more strongly than regret. He dropped his wand, tucked it into his robe. He forced his face to adopt a superior sneer. He almost lost the look when he met Black's eyes again. Black's face had assumed an arrogant superiority, but he still radiated frustrated desire. Severus drew in a breath and turned to leave. Reaching the door, he turned back, finally remembering why he'd come. He reiterated the date and time of Potter's first Occlumency lesson, turned again, and strode quickly out of the house.

The Occlumency was the least of it. Whatever he'd thought-- whatever he'd said. Whatever was between himself and Sirius Black, it was by no means over. 

He would be back.


	3. Part II


    Alas, regardless of their doom,
    	The little victims play!
    No sense have they of ills to come,
    	Nor care beyond to-day:

***

That night, Severus stood outside Grimmauld Place, waiting as the lights dimmed. He walked in without knocking, secure in the faith that Order membership guaranteed entry.

Black's parents had gutted his room, Regulus had said. And so-- where to search? Was Black down drinking again?

But the house was dark, quiet. The children were clearly asleep. It seemed Black was, as well. Following instinct, he climbed the stairs, turned, walked down the hall. Opened a door.

The room was lit. It faced the rear garden, not the street. Black sat on the bed, fully dressed, left leg outstretched, right bent at the knee. His right arm rested on the cocked knee, crystal shot glass in hand. A bottle of Firewhiskey sat on the bedside table. Its familiar amber filled the glass. Black's lips quirked. "Oh, _do_ come in, Snape," his ruined voice said. "I thought you'd be back."

Severus stepped in, pushing the door closed behind him. Having come, he was at a loss. "You had questions," he said.

Black let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, I have. But I'm certain you haven't come to answer them."

The thrum of desire hit him, standing across the room. "No," he managed. "It's not why I came. But I will answer."

Black shook his head. His arm jerked a bit at the movement, Firewhiskey sloshing in the glass. "Don't bother. I know the answer. I'm not stupid. You read my mind, all those years ago. You're here now because you read my mind today."

Severus took a few steps, moving within a metre of the bed. "You want it, then." He didn't bother to clarify.

Black laughed again. "But you knew that, didn't you? Same as you knew the first time." He pursed his lips. "You read every thought I had. Why'd you even hesitate, that first night?"

Severus frowned, remembering. Black had thrown the invitation as a challenge. "I thought I must be wrong, then. I'd studied Legilimency, but I was new to it." He dug deeper. _Say it._ "I thought I was seeing what I wanted to see. You were very drunk."

"So you wanted me, then." The corner of Black's mouth drew up.

Severus laughed shortly. It was a night for admissions; this one was harmless. "Of course I wanted you. You thought it was an assignment? You surely can't believe that you were so damned important that the Dark Lord would send me to seduce you. God, he'd never have thought it would work, for one thing."

"I see." Black wore a sardonic smile. It was a look he'd been too open to wear fifteen years earlier. "And now?"

In answer, Severus stepped closer, took the Firewhiskey glass from Black's hand, and drank it down. He set it down by the bottle on the bedside table. He laced his hand in Black's tangled hair, dragged Black's head forward, brought his mouth down to meet Black's.

He'd forgot what kissing Black was like. They'd done it so seldom. Their tongues twisted, he dragged his across Black's teeth and hard palate. The rush of heat in his groin-- how had he forgot this?

He pulled his mouth away. Black was gasping-- he supposed he was as well. "Undress," Severus said.

Black's eyes flashed defiance. "You, too."

He never had, before, too afraid that the Mark would be visible. Now-- it hardly mattered. Black didn't know all, but he knew enough. Severus pulled back, hands working at his throat, unfastening his robes, removing them. Shoes, pants, all falling to the floor. Black had risen and was shucking his clothes as well.

The rest of Black's body was as wasted as his face. He was still painfully thin. Severus could count his ribs beneath the stretched skin. Months in Grimmauld Place had kept Black's skin sickly pale; it stood stark white beneath the black hair on his chest. Very little of Black's physical perfection had survived his stay in Azkaban. The aquiline nose, the eyes-- those Severus would have recognised anywhere. Those remained. Remaining, too, was the attitude. That, more than anything else, was what he wanted.

Older, wiser now-- he knew that. He'd wanted Sirius Black fifteen years before-- not revenge on a tormentor, not James Potter's friend, not a handsome male body-- _Sirius Black._ And, whatever else had changed, Severus wanted him still.

He reached out, coiled an arm behind Black, dragged him close. Black was taller, still, but not by much. He locked his open mouth on Black's, pressing his hard cock into Black's belly. He freed his mouth long enough to growl, "Get into bed."

It was fast and rough and raw, lying on their sides face to face. Severus' hands clutched against the muscles of Black's back. He thrust his groin against Black's, rubbing their cocks against each other. He slid his right hand down the center of Black's back, clutching a buttock to pull him closer.

He sucked hard on Black's tongue, trying to absorb the other man deep into his mouth.

Black's hands were hard and desperate against him in turn, running up and down his back, stopping to clutch, pull tighter.

He felt Black panting against his mouth, harsh puffs of alcohol-tinged air.

Severus pushed harder, cock grinding as he thrust faster, legs rubbing against black, buttocks clenched with each thrust.

He gasped air in and out as the heat built between them, centered on the slide of his cock against Black's.

He rolled them so that Black lay beneath him. He lifted up on the heels of his hands, gaining the leverage to thrust harder.

He looked into Black's eyes, dilated black. And he knew what Black wanted-- he could see the image-- wrists pinned, legs up against Severus' shoulders, Severus' cock hard and thrusting inside him. But Black was too far gone. So was Severus. 

He ground hard against Black, twisting his hips, and Black arched up with a hoarse cry. Severus felt slickness against his stomach. "God, yes," he murmured, throwing his head back, closing his eyes. He thrust again, then came. He continued thrusting, weaker and faster now, as his cock finished pulsing and spent itself against Black's stomach.

When he heard his own breath harsh in his ears, he bit his lip, then pushed up and rolled off to the right, falling down hard. He grunted. "Roll over," he said, voice too loud.

Black rolled, turning his back against Severus' wet stomach, and Severus draped his left arm over Black, drawing the other man close. He slid his left leg between Black's and pillowed his head on his right arm, leaning his forehead against the back of Black's head.

Black's left arm clutched at his. Black began, "Severus, I wanted..."

"We have time," Severus whispered. His breathing slowed as he relaxed, but he didn't sleep. He wasn't certain whether Black did, but Black's breathing was slow and deep and even. He lay still for a long time, listening to Black breathe, feeling the heat of the other man's body against his own.

He was recovering, cock beginning to harden and twitch against Black's buttocks. He pressed his lips against Black's shoulder. Black sighed. _Not asleep, then._ Black shifted back, pressing into his cock.

Black spoke quietly. "This time, I want you to fuck me."

Severus twitched his left arm free, then stroked his hand down the center line of Black's chest. "All right." He flicked his tongue against Black's earlobe.

It wasn't easy; it had been too long for both of them. Black accused him of wasting good Firewhiskey when he transfigured it into lubricant, and Severus was hard-pressed not to snarl in response. _It was worth it,_ he thought when Black was draped over the edge of the bed screaming hoarsely into the mattress as Severus' cock pounded into him from behind.

After, Severus moved to go. Black stopped him with a shake of his head. "No, Severus, stay." They slid back into the bed, legs entwined, arms wrapped loosely around each other. _"Nox,"_ Black whispered, and the room turned dark around them.

More relaxed than he'd allowed himself to be in years, Severus nodded off to sleep.

He woke in the dark to a voice. "Mistress would cry and wail, she would, to see the dirty boy in her bed. Sick. Repulsive. Blood traitor. Monster in Mistress' house. My mistress' noble line, polluted, wrecked, ruined."

Severus cringed. _What--?_

Black stirred against him. The voice continued. "Filthy little half-blood, yes. Mistress should never have let you in the house."

Black grunted and moved, breaking their embrace. Severus heard the creak of the mattress springs. "Kreacher, hold your tongue. _Lumos._ " The room was filled with light.

It _was_ Kreacher, Severus saw. The house-elf stood just inside the door, eyes narrowed, face marked with a vicious sneer. Severus sat up in bed, all traces of sleepy relaxation gone.

Black rose from the bed, padding across the floor and grabbing Kreacher by the throat. He shook the house-elf, speaking with quiet menace. "You, Kreacher, are not to speak of this to Harry, to Remus, to _anyone._ I don't want you to write it, hint it, make significant hand gestures-- _God_ \-- you are not to mention sex, fucking, _buggering_ , or any other term for it to me or to anyone else, you filthy sneak. I don't give a damn how horrified my mother would be, and I don't care what _you_ have to say about it. I may not be able to dismiss you, but I can damned well rip you apart. _Don't you forget it._ "

Kreacher's eyes narrowed to slits, fixed on Severus and swept back to Black. "Kreacher understands."

Black shook him again. "I thought you did. Now, get back to your filthy den."

Kreacher Disapparated, leaving Black threatening empty air. He dropped his hand, walking over to the door and closing it.

Severus pushed back the blanket. "I should go."

Black turned, leaning back against the closed door. "Why bother?"

"The students--"

Black lifted his left shoulder in a quick shrug. "They'll be arriving at Hogwarts tomorrow. Knowing you, you've got every minute of their time planned. What's your rush?"

Severus clenched his hands, then released. "As we've just established, Black," he said drily, "it's better if I'm not seen here."

Black pushed off the door, stalking across the room. "Kreacher will hold his tongue, _Snape._ " He supposed the use of his surname was meant to be an insult. 

Severus said nothing. He lay back, pulling the blanket over himself.

Black climbed back in bed, laying down on his back next to Severus. Their bodies were not touching, but Severus felt the heat radiating off Black's body. "Listen, Severus, I was thinking. I'd like to ask you a favour."

Severus turned his head; he was watching Black's profile as Black stared up at the ceiling. "What?"

The uncertain smile was there, then gone. "You're teaching Harry Occlumency."

"Yes, to my sorrow."

Black cleared his throat. "Severus, can't you just-- never mind." He sighed. "I want you to teach me," he said quickly.

 _I'd rather you not learn._ Severus didn't say it. "I don't know that you'll be much better than Potter, Black."

"What's wrong with Harry? He's not an idiot, Severus, and you know it."

 _I beg to differ, Black._ "He lacks focus. His mind is so open that it's difficult to avoid reading it. Yours is the same." 

He watched Black's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I'm willing to try."

"Why? You don't need to know." _You're not getting out of this house. We both know it._

Black turned his head; his nose was within a few inches of Severus'. Black wasn't a Legilimens, but his words indicated he'd read the thought perfectly well. "I may be trapped here, but someday I'm going to get out. If what you say is true, Voldemort can read me as easily as he can read Harry. If you won't do it for me, do it for yourself." He paused. His voice rang with false lightness. "Or did you tell Voldemort you were planning on coming here to fuck me?"

Severus felt his mouth twist. "I didn't tell him last time. I'm not going to tell him now."

Black blinked rapidly. "I thought you said he--"

Severus pursed his lips. "I lied. All right, Black? I do that. I didn't tell him last time. I'm not intending on telling him this time." He looked deep in Black's eyes, almost overwhelmed by Black's surprise and hope. "I'll teach you."

Black gave him a quick smile. "I hadn't even got to bribing you with sex, Severus."

Severus turned on his side, draping his left arm over Black's chest. "Hm. Best get to that now, then," he whispered, flicking his tongue over Black's earlobe.

"I will, at that."

It was well after dawn when Severus slipped out the front door to return to Hogwarts. He'd promised to return the next day after his lesson with Potter, and Black had promised to make it worth his while.

***  
[13 January 1996]

The fact that Occlumency lessons would be "buying" him sex with Sirius Black almost made the thought of spending further time with Harry Potter bearable. Of course, this was balanced with years of memories of Potter chattering with Ron Weasley, carelessly tossing ingredients into his cauldron and stirring haphazardly. Severus had warned Dumbledore-- warned Black, for that matter-- that Potter lacked focus. Potter also lacked emotional control. Focus and emotional control were the only requirements of Occlumency.

Severus usually held strict control of his own emotions, though dealing with Potter was a severe trial. The boy looked too much like his father. Severus couldn't look at him without thinking of the worst of James Potter's pranks. To train the boy at all, Severus needed to be certain of his own control.

That in mind, he'd secured the loan of Dumbledore's Pensieve. Now, with Potter seated across from him, there were three memories he pulled. They weren't the memories he least wanted Potter to see-- _he won't break into my mind in any case_ \-- but the memories that kept him from calm when he looked at the boy: first, that appalling day after his Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL; second, the night in the Shrieking Shack; third, the day it all began, that first day at King's Cross when James Potter-- spoiled child that he was-- had mocked Severus' Yorkshire accent, knocked Severus' books out of his arms, spilling them all over the platform, then sneered when the first tears sprang to Severus' eyes... Severus ripped that memory out of place with especial force.

Placing the memories in the Pensieve did not completely obliterate them from his mind-- he still knew what each contained. However, in the Pensieve, they were distant enough that he recalled very few details. _Much easier to deal with the boy without them._

Leaving the memories shimmering in the Pensieve, he sat down behind his desk. If Potter saw any memories of Severus fucking Sirius Black through the walls, the mattress, the floor-- Severus would live quite happily with that exposure.

_God knows, perhaps the boy would finally give me some respect._

The lesson went-- as he'd expected, really. 

Potter was completely unable to control his emotions. Severus was able to enter his mind and play through his memories at will. Potter grew angrier with each successive failure, practically scorching the air around him with fury. It was painfully obvious that Potter thought Severus was manipulating him, deliberately trying to humiliate him.

Then he struck a memory in Potter's mind, and Potter asked about the Department of Mysteries. Severus listened to the description in shock. He knew what Voldemort wanted there, knew the boy must have caught the unconscious projection from Voldemort's mind. _The Dark Lord wants the prophecy-- he wants to know if it will tell him how to defeat Potter._

Severus pressed his lips tightly together. _The less he thinks of it, the better._ Thinking of it left a path open for Voldemort to exploit. Severus didn't know how Voldemort would manage it, but Potter was so volatile Severus knew it wouldn't be difficult. He ordered Potter not to think of it-- to shove the thoughts aside.

Potter nodded at the order, but Severus felt his defiance. He tried to get the boy to block him, but with no success.

There was nothing to be said. There was nothing to be done. He'd planned to have one Occlumency lesson per week with Potter; in the wake of the complete failure of the lesson, Severus doubled it, ordering the boy to return on Wednesday.

He was happy to dismiss the boy in the end-- happy to go off and claim the promised reward of fucking Black. He'd burst past Kreacher, searched the house, and finally dragged Black away from the hippogriff. After Kreacher's diatribe the night before, Severus had decided precisely where and how he wanted Black. The memory of his first encounter with James Potter only cemented that desire.

Black held the frame of his mother's portrait, leaning into it as Severus fucked him hard from behind. The portrait was screaming incoherently, the house-elf standing by and wringing its hands.

After they shuddered to completion, Severus hissed threats at the portrait until it subsided in silence.

He moved with Black into the drawing room and began his second set of Occlumency lessons for the evening.

Years in Azkaban had not helped Black control his anger. He'd learnt to dodge it through Animagism. It was fortunate Black had had that out. Without it, he would have surely lost any semblance of joy in Azkaban-- fed to the dementors. Black's feelings practically shone through him. Teaching him to block them-- compartmentalise them-- it seemed almost a crime. 

Then again, Black had asked. He was applying himself to Occlumency with a dedication his godson failed to match.

***

[14 January 1996]

The next morning, Severus stared at the headline of Daily Prophet over breakfast. He was sneered at by the photographs of his fellow Death Eaters; the Prophet trumpeted their escape. _There's no stopping it now._ He stared closely at Bellatrix Lestrange. _Didn't age well, did you, Bellatrix?_ She'd been his main competition for Voldemort's favour. They'd despised one another. She'd almost certainly killed Regulus Black.

_Black will be furious._

He read the article, then set the paper aside.

He glanced first at the toad, then, certain she was not watching, over at Dumbledore. _I didn't know. Why didn't I know?_

***

[15 January 1996]

Another day passed. Severus stared at the toad's latest Educational Decree-- number twenty-six-- as he posted it on the Slytherin noticeboard. 

He'd thought the decree forbidding student organisations was particularly fortuitous in its timing. This decree was _too_ fortuitously timed. _Does she know about the Occlumency lessons?_ He tacked the notice in place viciously. _If she knew, she'd stop them._

He wondered, though-- did the Ministry have a spy in Dumbledore's Order? Severus was virtually certain that Voldemort had a spy in the Order in addition to Severus.

_If he had only me, he'd summon me more often._

It was a suspicion, but he had no way to confirm it. 

He stared at the decree a moment more before turning to go to breakfast. He'd find out soon enough whether the toad knew about the Occlumency lessons, and he prayed he'd discover Voldemort's other spy before it was too late-- _before it exposes me._

Either way, events had been set in train, and they were out of his control.

It was not all to the bad. He had to instruct Potter in Occlumency that evening, and, after, he would pay a visit to Sirius Black.

He smiled, a twitch of his lips that he quickly repressed. 

_Maybe I'll take him in the kitchen this time. He can try telling me again how he'd prefer I not give orders in his house. Hmm. But he's so diligent about obeying them._

***

[23 February 1996]

Severus had tried not to enjoy watching the Gryffindor team being humiliated by Hufflepuff. He had not tried particularly _hard_ , but he had made the effort. McGonagall had shot fiery glares in his direction when the Slytherin spectators began a rousing chorus of "Weasley is Our King," and he'd loftily ignored them. Weasley's incompetence aside, he was well aware that Umbridge's vindictive lifetime ban of Harry Potter was the real cause of Hufflepuff's victory. Umbridge herself was a loaded weapon who could go off in any direction, and Severus tried to stay low enough on her priority scale that she wouldn't choose his direction.

All the same, Severus was pleased to have Slytherin once more atop the Quidditch standings. He woke Monday morning in an excellent mood.

For once, Potter was responsible for maintaining Severus' good mood.

Severus saw the flurry of owls clustering around Potter at breakfast. He quickly became aware that Umbridge had noticed as well. She rose from the staff table and waddled down to confront Potter and his friends.

The other instructors were casting surreptitious glances in the direction of the upcoming confrontation. Severus planted his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand, staring directly at Potter. Umbridge knew he despised Potter; she'd hardly be shocked that he watched.

He couldn't hear the conversation, but Severus had become familiar with Potter's defiant looks over five years of teaching him. _This should be interesting._ He watched with fascination as Potter tossed a glossy magazine in Umbridge's direction. Weasley and Granger were wearing looks of equal defiance.

Umbridge stared at the magazine in her hand, and her face went through a cycle of deeper and deeper colours. _I didn't know some of those colours were possible._

Umbridge was shaking. 

Severus had little doubt that Potter had done something incredibly stupid-- _again_ \-- another example of a Pyrrhic victory. _He's worse than Draco._ He had drawn Umbridge's attention and ire-- _fool_ \-- in the name of truth, justice, and the Gryffindor way.

_Black will probably be proud._

Umbridge clutched the magazine to her chest, turned, and waddled back in the direction of the staff table. She glared in Dumbledore's direction. Severus repressed a twitch of his lips. _Well._

Umbridge met Severus' eyes, and Severus gave her a mild nod as he used his Legilimency to probe her thoughts. The cover of The Quibbler-- _The Quibbler?_ \-- swam before his eyes.

He had acquired a copy of The Quibbler and read the full text of the interview within five minutes of the end of breakfast. _Well. So._ Potter had named Lucius as a Death Eater, along with several others. Draco's lips were a white line throughout Potions class, and he glared in Potter's direction.

Potter didn't seem to notice, laughing with his friends.

 _Potter treats this like a game. One day, he'll discover it isn't one._

The boy's defiance was sheer idiocy, but Severus had to congratulate him on its effectiveness. He did not, of course, say anything about the interview. In fact, he gave Potter the usual D on his potion. However, he also made no move to confiscate copies of The Quibbler as instructed by Educational Decree number twenty-seven.

Their Occlumency lesson that evening was, as always, a failure. _He's not been practising._

Severus dismissed him with relief, then went on his evening walk. Slipping outside the wards, he Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

Black was waiting for him in the kitchen, copy of The Quibbler laying on the table.

For a moment, Severus' mind dragged up the image of Black's old house-- all flat surfaces strewn with magazines. He shoved the image away and threw a probe into Black's mind.

Black's Occlumency had improved; Severus saw nothing. 

Black's mouth twitched. "Thought you'd got me, didn't you?"

"Don't get cocky, Black."

Black tossed his head. "I thought you liked it when I got cocky, Severus."

Severus sighed. "You are not amusing, Black." He paused. "You are improving," he admitted grudgingly.

Black grinned, white teeth flashing. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He gestured at the magazine on the table. "Did you see the interview?"

 _No avoiding that._ "I did."

Black barked a laugh. "I bet that really got the Umbridge woman."

Severus shook his head slowly. "Oh, it did," he said. "She banned all copies of it; any student caught with it will be expelled."

Black rolled his eyes and laughed again. "Guaranteeing everyone's read it?"

"Naturally." Severus inclined his head.

"Hmm. She's not got much sense, has she? James and I could've run circles around her." Severus held back his response. Black shrugged. "Can't imagine Malfoy and the rest are happy about it, though." Black held a question in his eyes.

"I wouldn't know." Severus shot another probe at Black's mind; this time, it penetrated. Proud images of Potter twined with images of Severus, naked, cock between Black's lips... Severus felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He delivered a stiff rebuke. "Not careful enough, Black."

"Oops." Black's grin was not remotely regretful. "Well, I do need more practise, Severus."

"Quite." Severus sighed. "Now, clear your mind..."

"Are you certain?" Black's question was laced with laughter. "Didn't like what you saw, Severus? I'm offended."

Severus shook his head. He shoved aside thoughts of draping Black over the table with regret. "Later, Black. We have time. You asked to learn Occlumency, remember? So, try."

Black bowed his head, but his eyes danced with mischief. "Yes, Professor Snape."

Severus shook his head again. "Very funny. Now, clear your mind..."

***

Sex in the kitchen exceeded Severus' expectations.

***

[8 March 1996]

Occlumency lessons stretched on into early March. Black was a quick study, but Potter still made no progress at blocking Severus' Legilimency. Severus wondered if the boy had made any attempt to practise as instructed.

Their third lesson of the month was proceeding with Potter's usual incompetence. Potter had collapsed to the floor after Severus' latest attack. Severus had seen a young version of Potter's exceedingly fat cousin forcing Potter to do a variety of degrading activities. Severus had grown unpleasantly familiar with Potter's Muggle relatives in the course of their Occlumency lessons. _A true heir to James Potter, for all they're unrelated,_ he thought uncomfortably. In the midst of the usual rush of humiliating images-- Potter's cousin kicking him into a dark closet, Potter's cousin and a group of other boys laughing loudly as Potter picked up broken glasses from the ground, Potter's cousin shoving him in the direction of the toilet while gesturing threats to flush him down the drain-- Severus saw something new, something unexpected.

The room was dark, and he stood looking down at a man kneeling on the stone floor. He felt the wash of rage through him.

The image was gone, and Severus pulled free of Potter's mind. His head was spinning. _Rookwood. That was Rookwood. Which means--_ Severus ordered Potter to his feet.

The boy looked up slowly.

Glaring at Potter, Severus demanded an explanation for the memory. Potter claimed ignorance at first, then began avoiding Severus' gaze. _Hiding it. And very deliberately._

Severus felt as if his head were exploding. _You stupid child. Have you listened to nothing I have told you? Have you listened to nothing the headmaster has told you? Why must you think you are the final arbiter of what is important? Why didn't you tell me about this "dream" of yours, Potter?_ He gritted his teeth. _Damn you, do you even understand why we are standing in here in this room?_ No longer able to contain his rage, he threw the questions and accusations in Potter's face.

He was met with more avoidance, then defiance. 

Giving Potter little time to prepare, Severus lifted his wand and plunged into the boy's mind again.

He knelt at lakeside, draped over the still form of Sirius Black. Terror choked his throat-- desperation froze him in place as he looked up and saw dementors-- ranks upon ranks of them. They drew closer, his terror escalating as he raised his wand in an attempt to fend them off-- 

_Black. Sirius-- no, I--_ Severus lifted his wand, forgetting that he was in a memory. "Get away. I can't let--" he said.

It was then that he lost control of the contact; he saw Potter's furious face clearly for a moment, heard Potter shouting. He felt Potter's mind sliding against his, memories playing beyond his control-- Severus cringed, shaking, as his father shouted, "Monsters, demons, the both of you. You're not even human!" His mother stood in front of him, "No, Tobias, please--"; Severus sat on his bed, striking down flies one by one, practising the killing curse; Narcissa laughed as Severus tried to climb on a broomstick-- Potter had cursed it to shake him off-- _bastard-- Potter--_

_Potter..._

Severus shoved the boy out of his mind with a shout and all the mental force he could muster. He slammed his shields down around the memories and emotions, retreating behind his barriers.

Potter fell back as if Severus had shoved him in truth; he collided with a jar of pickled toad. Severus heard the audible snap as the glass broke, then the sound of fluid dripping down to the floor.

Severus closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and cast the necessary spell to repair the jar. His mind darted from thought to thought. _I'll need to clean later-- check the books--_ He glanced back at the Pensieve behind him, touched it. For the first time, he was glad to have it. Humiliating though these particular memories had been, they weren't the ones he'd removed; those, at least, were safe. He forced his mind back to the task at hand. _A Shield Charm. So simple, and so effective. If the Dark Lord had ever--_ Severus dismissed the fear. Voldemort was too confident in his own abilities. He would never think to do something unconventional-- he was a trained Legilimens. He would try only Legilimency against Severus' Occlumency; anything else would be admitting a lack of confidence in his own power. _But, Black, the dementors, when--?_ Severus swallowed. He owed the boy praise for this. It was his first success. _Congratulate Potter._ He did.

Potter said nothing.

Potter had managed to penetrate Severus' mind; that was more difficult than a simple block. Severus decided to push again, to try to capitalise on their prior success. Severus walked behind his desk; Potter stood facing him. Severus lifted his wand and pushed again, feeling the familiar surge of disappointment when he slid without resistance into Potter's mind.

The Department of Mysteries, a door looming closer at the end of the corridor. The door opened, revealing a round room filled with candles-- circled with doors-- _No, damn it-- not here!_

Severus shouted, breaking the contact. Potter fell to the floor with a crack. Severus glared down at him, demanding an explanation. _So, you know nothing about it, do you?_

Potter rose to his feet more quickly; his right hand raised to rub his head. He met Severus' eyes, and Severus felt the boy's honest confusion as he disclaimed knowledge of what he had seen.

 _We are losing. Lesson by lesson, we are losing ground. Why don't you try, boy?_ Severus let his tongue free, ripping into Potter. _Black can do this; why can't you?_ Potter struck back-- the strike was as bewildering as it was infuriating. _What do you mean, Potter? I am-- I was-- I am a Death Eater and you know it._ Severus made to respond, but was stopped by a scream. He looked up.

 _Who--?_ For a mad moment, Severus wondered if it might have been Umbridge finally meeting her well-deserved fate.

And then there was more, the sound of voices, scraping coming from upstairs. Severus' brows drew together. Severus tossed a question at Potter before walking to the door, leaving Potter behind. He moved quickly down the corridor, up the stairs, and into the Entrance Hall.

Sybill Trelawney stood wailing over her trunks, Umbridge looking vindictive. It was all too clear what had happened-- Umbridge was getting rid of Trelawney.

And the whole school was there to see it happen.

Severus pushed through the crowd, catching McGonagall's eye. _There but for the grace of competence go I._ Severus closed his eyes. _Or, rather-- there, but for the grace of Lucius Malfoy go I._ He had few illusions that the Ministry would tolerate his own presence if Lucius Malfoy had not insisted he stay. _The irony. A Death Eater protects my position in the Order of the Phoenix._

Severus flinched as Umbridge spewed insults at Trelawney. _The Dark Lord would love her. She's another Bellatrix._

McGonagall walked to the center of the circle of onlookers, casting an arm about Trelawney's shoulders. She assured Trelawney that she wouldn't have to leave.

 _She can't leave. Dumbledore can't allow the Dark Lord to get hold of her. The protections on the Hall of Prophecy are for naught if you get the damned prophet._ He looked on helplessly. Umbridge despised Trelawney; she would fight McGonagall tooth and nail.

And Dumbledore arrived, saving them all again-- _even this damned repulsive Ministry toad_ \-- assuring Trelawney she was entitled to stay at Hogwarts, if not to teach. He undercut Umbridge's triumph, offering a replacement Divination teacher, the centaur Firenze.

Severus watched the fury rise in Umbridge's face. 

_We'll pay for it, in the end. She'll never forget this._

Severus left the crowd of students behind, returning to his office. Severus was surprised to see the silver trails in the Pensieve. He'd been careless to leave his memories-- _those memories_ \-- unattended. _Potter must have left behind me._

He reached out his wand, pulling the thoughts safely back into his brain. He flinched as he resorbed them.

He drew in a deep breath, sitting down behind his desk. He thought of Trelawney, of Umbridge. _So much at stake, and the Ministry too blind to see it._ He thought of Potter. _Blind, too, that one._

He thought of that memory, that last one he pulled out of Potter's mind before losing control-- Black on the lakeshore, swarms of dementors swirling closer, Potter Black's only defense-- he shuddered. _I lost control before Potter cast the spell. I lost it the moment I saw Black unconscious._

He set his elbows on the desk, then lowered his head, burying his face in his hands. 

***

Severus fucked Black with added force after their own Occlumency lesson that evening. _Not again. I won't lose you to dementors again, Black._

***

[29 March 1996]

Potter's subsequent Occlumency lessons met with no success. Trelawney's dismissal meant the toad was unbearably smug; it also gave her more free time. Fortunately, the majority of her efforts were concentrated against Dumbledore and McGonagall; Severus gradually realised that Umbridge had concluded Severus held a grudge against Dumbledore for continually refusing his application to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. This left his evening walks and Potter's Occlumency lessons free of Umbridge's interference.

It made little difference. Three weeks after Umbridge had sacked Trelawney, Potter was still completely unable to block Severus' incursions into his mind. Despite repeated prompts, Potter claimed not to be having any more "dreams" about Voldemort's activities. Severus didn't believe him.

In despair, Severus had started testing at the boundaries of the piece of Voldemort's soul encased in Potter's body. _Since the fool can't block it; can I remove it?_ He made several simple attempts to cut it free, but the boy visibly flinched each time Severus' mind brushed against Voldemort's soul. _Can the Dark Lord sense my touch as well?_ The thought was chilling. He continued his efforts, carefully watching Potter for any hint of reaction.

His attempts at removal were just as unsuccessful as his attempts to teach Potter Occlumency, but Severus continued to attempt both.

In the course of their lessons, Severus had passed through every memory of Potter's childhood multiple times; in addition, he'd seen enough of Potter's obsession with Cho Chang that Severus was embarrassed to look at the girl in class. _The only mercy is that Potter has no fantasies about me._

Black, however, did. On the increasingly rare occasions when Severus managed to break beyond Black's Occlumency, he was rewarded with images of himself lying above Black-- kissing him, pounding into him, smiling evilly as Black gazed helplessly up at him. After one particularly vivid image, Severus could only conclude Black was deliberately allowing him to penetrate his mental defenses.

"Stop that," he snapped.

Black smiled, leaning his chair up on its back legs. "C'mon, Severus. I like seeing you blush."

Severus shook his head. "I've noticed that, Black." After a pause, he offered grudging praise. "You've improved."

Black grinned; his grey eyes lit. "Thanks, Severus. That didn't kill you, did it?"

Severus rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together. "All down to my excellent teaching, of course."

Black laughed, his usual sharp bark. "My mistake." He let the chair fall forward. His right hand drew a pattern on the tabletop. He stared down at it for a moment, then looked up and shrugged. "Speaking of your teaching, how's Harry doing?"

 _Trust him to bring that up._ To be fair, it was the first time Black had asked. By common agreement, they avoided discussing Potter, school, Lupin-- any of their traditional areas of disagreement. Severus said, "Not well. He's made no progress."

Black sighed. "I wondered. Look, Severus. I could talk to him, say--"

"--Say what? 'Snape's not so bad; I should know; we're fucking'?" Severus laughed bitterly. "I can't imagine that would help. You've little idea how much the boy dislikes me, Black." He shook his head slowly. "To be fair, I'm not too fond of _him,_ either. It would be better if the headmaster would do it."

"Why won't he?"

Severus hadn't told him about the Horcrux-- wouldn't. "The Dark Lord has exhibited some facility to invade Harry's mind. The headmaster is concerned the boy might pose a threat to him."

Black tapped his fingers against the table. "And he's not concerned about a threat to _you?_ If anyone could handle it, Dumbledore could."

Severus shrugged. "The headmaster asked me to teach the boy, and so I will. I just am not meeting with much success."

" _Talk_ to Dumbledore, then, dammit."

Severus shook his head. "Thank you for your teaching advice, Black. I think I can handle it."

"Prickly, aren't you? Sheathe your damned claws, Severus. I'll stay out of it." Black leaned back in his chair again.

"McGonagall's the cat, Black, not me."

Black grinned. "You'd rather I call you a vampire bat? Happy to oblige, Severus." His grin fell away, then returned. "But you _are_ a cat; don't you remember 'the fair Selima'?"

Severus froze for a moment, then forced himself to relax. He remembered his teenage transformation into a female body quite well, and his encounter with Sirius Black by the side of the lake. The memory still made him uncomfortable and somewhat ashamed of himself; he was surprised Black was willing to bring it up. If Black was willing to talk about it, though, Severus had always wanted to understand the incident. "Apparently you had an unconscious desire to see me drowned, Black. That's the only possible explanation for quoting that poem."

Black sighed, grin dropping away again. His chair fell forward with a thunk. His voice was very serious when he spoke. "I was the romantic type, I guess. It was the first thing that sprang to mind when you called yourself 'Selena,' you know. Could have kicked myself, after." He laughed without humor. "Well, I suppose we always did get along like a house afire, Severus."

Severus pressed his lips tightly together. He forced a light tone. "Fighting like cats and dogs, you think? Well." Severus still took issue with the image of himself as a spoiled pet cat. He cleared his throat. "Selena-- I was looking at the moon. First thing that came to mind." Black's mouth quirked; Severus glanced away. "Look, Black-- from what I've seen in your mind, you aren't interested in women. I had assumed you were, at least somewhat."

Black cleared his throat in turn. His response was slow, considered. "No. I never particularly was. I was surprised to be interested in _any_ girl. Relieved, a bit." He gave another faint laugh. "More fool me, then. Happy I never told James about the whole damned mess." He drew in a breath, let it out. 

Severus swallowed. "I never did apologise, Black." Severus forced himself to meet the other man's eyes. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Black's eyes crinkled. "Will wonders never cease?" He shrugged. "Nah, don't fuss over it. It was a long time ago."

"So it was." 

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

Severus rested his right elbow on the table, then supported his chin on the heel of his hand. "There's not much more I can teach you about Occlumency, Black," he said, returning to a safe topic. "You could still use practise, but you're not bad. If you can block me, you should be able to block anyone short of the headmaster or the Dark Lord. Maybe even them."

The right corner of Black's mouth quirked up. "No false pride, one assumes." He held up a hand when Severus opened his mouth. "No, I mean that; you were never much for it. Thank you." He shook his head. "Does this mean you're not coming back, Severus?"

These visits to Black were dangerous; that he'd maintained them for months without attracting the attention of Dumbledore, Umbridge, or Voldemort was nothing short of astonishing. He swallowed, looking down. "I shouldn't."

"Oh, well, no. Plenty of things we all _shouldn't_ do, Severus." He paused. "I'd like you to come. I don't know-- teach me Legilimency."

"Hard to see how that would be much use." His mouth quirked.

"Hmm. Maybe I'd like to know what you're thinking, Severus."

"You could ask." He said it without thinking. He pressed his lips closed, wishing the words unsaid.

The words hung in the air between them for a long, silent moment. Then Black spoke. "I might do that, then." The following silence was briefer, less fraught with tension. "If not that, then something else. Damn all, Severus, I'm rusty after Azkaban, and I've been mouldering away in here. When I get out of here, I'm dead if I can't fight. You know it."

Severus did; he also knew that Black was very likely not getting out of Grimmauld Place. He had no intention of saying that. _Weak._ "All right, Black." _Searching for any excuse, weren't you?_ He shoved the thought to the back of his brain and looked up, meeting Black's eyes.

They were crinkled again with a grin. "Good. Here's your chance to show me why you should have been teaching Defence Against Dark Arts, Severus."

"You know I should."

Black waved a chiding finger. "Hmm. We'll see."

"Better than that damned Umbridge woman-- and Lockhart, what a travesty."

"Next you'll be saying you're better than Remus."

It was truly a night for firsts; one forbidden conversation topic after another. Severus stifled an angry retort and forced himself to respond in the same teasing manner Black had used. "You think I'm not? You'll soon see. I will have you flat on your back on the floor before you know what hit you, Black."

Black's eyes flared. "Maybe I'll have to practise with Remus to compare..." Black drawled, still grinning.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I assume you mean practise sparring, Black. Though I think you'll be hard-pressed to do even that. Hard to imagine Lupin fitting you into his busy schedule-- too busy dating that Metamorphmagus cousin of yours."

Black's grin fell away. He straightened, giving Severus a quizzical look. "I didn't think you knew."

Severus shook his head. "Even if I weren't a Legilimens, Black, it's appallingly obvious. Lupin moons over the girl-- no pun intended-- and she's constantly talking about 'Remus'"-- he said the name in a sugary tone.

Black smirked. "They're not _that_ bad."

"I beg to differ."

Black shrugged. "Well, you're right. You've no cause to be jealous."

Severus' mouth opened for a retort; he closed it, leaving it unsaid. When had his convenient affair with Black become any kind of cause for jealousy? _Not that it is. Black's just joking. I wouldn't have been jealous in any case._ This was nothing like true love or any such similar drivel.

Black hadn't appeared to notice the thought. _All the more reason not to teach him Legilimency._ Black smiled. "Well, shows what you know, though. Remus is stopping by Wednesday evening."

Severus bit the inside of his lower lip. _Good thing I'm not jealous._ "Hmm. So we'd be missing the next lesson in any case."

Black gave him a guilty grin. "Yes, at that."

Severus swallowed. "Well, then. I suppose we'll just have to make up for that in advance, Black." His mouth quirked. "Now, let's see... the last thing I remember you thinking about involved you, rope, a bed, and feathers."

"Did it?" There was a pink spot high on each of Black's cheeks. 

"I believe so." His mouth quirked higher at Black's blush.

"Right." A laugh threaded through Black's voice. "Dunno why you're so opposed to being a cat, Severus. Right now, you look like you've got the canary."

Severus growled. "Just get up those stairs, Black, and into bed."

****

[31 March 1996]

Lupin's visit to Black on Wednesday left Severus at loose ends after dismissing Potter for the evening. After pacing around his office a few minutes, still fuming over Potter's complete failure to defend his mind, he decided to actually take Black's advice for once.

Severus walked out the door, into the corridor, and up the flights of stairs until he reached the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office. "Fizzing Whizzbee" got him beyond the guardians and up the moving staircase.

He barged unceremoniously into Dumbledore's office, unsurprised to find Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, tapping at a stack of parchments before him. Dumbledore looked up mildly at Severus' entrance, gesturing at a chair.

Severus sat, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's not concentrating, Headmaster," he blurted. "He can't keep his temper in check."

Dumbledore blinked slowly. He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Now, Severus, I'm certain Harry is doing his best."

Severus shook his head, letting out an exasperated snort. "He doesn't trust me, Headmaster. We are less successful now than we were at the first lesson. He seems to honestly believe I am doing this for the sole purpose of giving the Dark Lord greater access to his mind."

Dumbledore pursed his lips and looked over the tops of his spectacles at Severus. "If Voldemort also believes that, it is all the better for you."

 _That is beside the point, and we both know it._ He drew air between his teeth with a hiss, then let it out in a loud huff. "You know very well I've not the slightest idea what the Dark Lord is thinking. He's not summoned me in months."

Dumbledore tented his fingers before his lips and nodded slowly. "Troubling, to be certain."

 _Quite an understatement._ Severus rose to his feet, pacing back and forth before Dumbledore's desk. _Take this seriously, damn you. You asked me to train him._ "And the boy is still seeing visions of the Hall of Prophecy, Headmaster. Of course it's the Dark Lord's influence."

Dumbledore sighed. "You are very likely correct. Which makes it essential to keep giving him lessons."

 _What the hell do you think I'm trying to do, Headmaster?_ Severus stopped and turned on his heel, staring at Dumbledore. "And what about the plan of me spying on the Dark Lord? I'm gathering very little intelligence here."

Dumbledore gave another measured nod. His voice remained calm. "Also true." He held Severus' eyes for a minute before speaking again. "And your suggestion, Severus?"

Severus threw his hands up and out before dropping them to his sides. _We both know what I need to do._ He said it anyway. "The only way I'll be of use to you is at the Dark Lord's side. I need to leave Hogwarts."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "I'm not ready to lose you yet, Severus."

"I've no idea why," a familiar portrait added querulously. 

Severus shot Phineas Nigellus' portrait a glare, then directed his attention back at Dumbledore. He laughed bitterly. "And when? We know that's the least of what's required. End of term? Next year?"

Dumbledore sighed, dropping his hands to his desktop. He drummed the fingers of his right hand against a stack of parchments. "I'd not have thought you'd be so eager to leave, Severus."

 _Because you think I enjoy trying to train Potter?_ "What?" he snapped.

Dumbledore's eyes locked with his. "Sirius Black. This war cost you fifteen years ago. I'd not thought you'd be so eager to give him up again, Severus."

Severus closed his eyes. It took a few moments before he could speak again. The images of himself in bed with Black played behind his eyelids, and he forced them behind a layer of innocuous thoughts. _Too late._ He said the first thing that came to mind in response, bitterness dripping from his voice. "If you can read it that easily, I'm slipping."

"No, Severus. Your skills are not lacking." Severus' eyes snapped open, watching him. Dumbledore's lips turned up in a sad smile. "Grant me the credit of being able to read something of you without resorting to Legilimency. I've known you twenty-four years, my boy."

"God knows I didn't tell him," Phineas Nigellus' portrait broke in. "Anything to avoid thinking about the two of you."

Severus deliberately did not address the portrait, though he felt the heat rising in his cheeks. _Damn it, Black told the house-elf to keep his mouth shut; he forgot the damned portrait. God, any room but the damned bedroom._ He shook his head. "It's nothing more than--" he found himself unable to say the word. Not, he told himself, because it was a lie, but because he hated to tell his mentor that it was nothing more than a convenient fuck for the both of them.

The sad smile still played on Dumbledore's lips. He looked down, not meeting Severus' eyes. "Ah, but it's made you happy, Severus. You'll lose it soon enough. We'll have no choice, in the end. But why not enjoy it while you can?" He looked up again. "And keep trying, Severus. I have faith in Harry."

Severus had faith in Dumbledore. As for Potter-- Severus had no choice.

***

[13 April 1996]

Severus missed Umbridge's successful removal of Dumbledore as Hogwarts' Headmaster entirely; after Potter's Occlumency lesson, he had made his accustomed trip to Grimmauld Place to visit Sirius Black.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts practises were going as smoothly as their earlier Occlumency lessons. Black was rusty, and he was less powerful than Severus. He was, however, very fast, and Black's Occlumency skills meant Severus could not use Legilimency to anticipate and counter Black's next spell.

That made the practises helpful to Severus, as well, to his surprise. It had been a long time since he'd sparred with anyone who posed any challenge.

 _Lockhart was damned well useless._ Though Severus admitted to having enjoyed sending that fool flying across the room with a simple disarming charm. _I was almost popular, that day._

"No, look, Black," he said, stepping over and looking at the man sprawled on the drawing room floor. They'd moved the furniture against the walls to leave open space for their practises. "You're careless. The gestures _work_ well enough, but you're sloppy. They're a little too wide. The only thing that saves you that you're damned fast-- it makes up for the fact that you're doing the spells so inefficiently."

Black glared at him, rubbing his wrist. "Couldn't just be that you enjoy beating me up, could it?"

"Black," Severus said, sighing, "you might ought to take my advice."

"I got Outstanding on my NEWT, you know."

"And I'm certain anyone trying to kill you would be very impressed when you told him so."

Black struggled into a sitting position, still rubbing at his wrist. "No, I know you're right. I'm just-- show me what I'm doing wrong."

"Like this--" Severus demonstrated at full speed, drawing a figure eight. He repeated the movement, moving slow enough that Black could follow the movement. "Control it with your fingertips, not your wrist-- or, God forbid-- your shoulder."

"And I'm doing-- what?"

Severus drew the figure eight again slowly, this time moving the wand with his wrist. "You see." He repeated the correct movement again. "Trust me-- it's faster this way."

Black draped his arm over his knees and sighed, shaking his head. His eyes narrowed in a glare. "You couldn't have mentioned this before, I take it? You're telling me I have to relearn everything."

"Now or later, Black. Pity no one called you on it at school."

His mouth twisted. "Hmm. That how you always beat us when we didn't catch you off guard?"

"Maybe." Severus looked pointedly at Black's wand, laying on the floor at his side. "Now, pick that up and try again."

Black grabbed the wand and rose to his feet. He moved it in a slow figure eight, this time controlling the movement with his fingertips. "Better?"

"Better." Severus gave him a sharp nod. "Now, stand over there, and we'll--" Severus broke off as a silver light entered the room. He turned to look. It was a Patronus; Severus did a doubletake at the form. _Goat. Which means--_ Message delivered, the silver goat faded. He looked back at Black. "We'll continue later. I need to go."

Black was frowning. "Severus. Who is it from? Who knows you're here?"

Severus pursed his lips. "Not now. Later, Black." He stalked out of the house and Apparated away.

He arrived just outside the Hog's Head. He swept into the pub, glanced over at Aberforth at the bar. Aberforth nodded briefly and darted his eyes toward the stairs, then looked back at his patrons. 

Severus went upstairs, then down the hall to the familiar room. _A little less familiar now; haven't been here in months._ The door swung open at his touch.

Dumbledore sat in his accustomed position on the bed. Severus entered, closed the door, and took his seat on the hard chair against the wall. 

Dumbledore's smile was rueful. "Sorry to disturb you, Severus. We have something of a problem."

Severus snorted. "I gathered that." _Or you'd hardly be making it so obvious to me that you know precisely where and with whom I spend my time._

"Tomorrow, Professor Umbridge will be announcing she is replacing me as headmaster."

Severus' eyes narrowed. Dumbledore's face gave little away. "How did she manage that?"

Dumbledore blinked slowly. "That's hardly important. She would have done one way or another." _Which means it has something to do with Potter._ "In any case, our position has become even more precarious. The Ministry will be searching for me, and I dare not venture too far from Hogwarts. And I'm honestly not certain when we will have another opportunity to meet safely, Severus. Professor Umbridge will be watching all of you. Were that not enough, Voldemort will seek to exploit this opportunity."

Severus nodded.

"I fear for Harry, Severus. He's still not made progress with Occlumency?"

"No." Severus clucked his tongue, sighed. "I doubt he will."

Dumbledore's eyes met his, locked. "And you've not been able to remove Voldemort's soul?"

Severus' shoulder blades smacked into the back of his chair as he rocked back. His eyes opened wide. He forced the words through a tight throat. "How did you know?"

Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not a fool, Severus. Of course you tried. I assume it did not work?"

Severus' mouth twisted; he clenched his right hand tight, then forced it flat against his thigh. "No. I can't extract it. Perhaps if I had another to practise on-- or perhaps not." He shrugged. "It may, quite frankly, be impossible. Horcruxes are-- uncommon, to say the least. They would serve little purpose if it were easy to remove and destroy the creator's soul. The only way I know of to destroy a Horcrux is to destroy the vessel."

"By which you mean, kill Harry."

Severus shrugged, shook his head. "Yes," he said finally. _With my Unbreakable Vow, killing Potter-- or even letting him die-- is tantamount to killing myself._ He shoved the thought aside. _It doesn't matter. We need him to live to defeat the Dark Lord._ He offered the only hope he could muster. "But I've looked. I've still seen nothing about encasing a piece of soul inside another living being. It may be that the rules are different. It's possible that the boy can cast it out of himself-- I honestly don't know."

Dumbledore sighed. "Which means, of course, that Harry must learn to control his own mind."

Severus inclined his head. "Naturally."

Dumbledore sighed again. "Which means we are back where we started, Severus-- Occlumency."

Severus laughed humorlessly. "Quite so."

The pause stretched between them. Dumbledore finally broke it. "And how is Sirius?"

Severus stiffened. "Well enough. He's not untalented. His Occlumency has progressed quite effectively. We've been practising Defence Against the Dark Arts." Severus kept his voice carefully neutral.

"And?"

He forced a shrug. "He's out of practise, Headmaster. He's... not bad."

"I will not insult you by asking you to be careful, Severus. I know you are, and I know you will continue to be." Dumbledore sighed. "All the same, Severus..." His voice trailed off. Dumbledore gave him a considering glance, followed it with a firm headshake. "No. Enjoy what you can. Umbridge will undoubtedly approach you with a series of requests. She will want to locate me. Use your best judgment-- indulge those you can. Try hard not to expose yourself. Minerva has put herself too firmly on my side. The Ministry will not forget it."

"Of course, Headmaster." He stared at Dumbledore for a few moments.

"Now, get back. Tonight, she will be looking for all of you. Best you get back before she looks into your walks."

Severus quirked his right brow. "Quite." He rose to his feet, headed for the door. His hand was on the knob when he heard Dumbledore's voice behind him.

"And, Severus-- I'm no longer the headmaster. You could call me 'Albus.'"

Severus nodded stiffly. He stood in place a moment longer before turning the knob.

***

Dumbledore's prediction had proven quite accurate. Umbridge had intercepted Severus in the Entrance Hall immediately following his return from his "walk." Fudge stood at her shoulder when she announced her new promotion, her triple chins shaking at the declaration.

Her beetle eyes darted back and forth, seeking his reaction.

He gave her nothing, simply inclined his head and murmured his congratulations.

He had to restrain a hysterical laugh when Fudge bumbled in with a comment. "We're not so certain of Professor McGonagall's loyalty, Severus. We're concerned about retaining her as deputy headmistress." He gave Severus an overly dramatic speaking look. "Lucius Malfoy has always spoken well of _you._ "

 _He would._ The idea of being the trusted spy of Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Fudge was briefly almost alluring. _Dare to seek success; who knows what opportunities you may be offered._ "I think the students' parents will need some semblance of stability after this change, Minister, Headmistress," he said quietly. Umbridge narrowed her eyes. "Once your ascendancy is firmly established, of course, Headmistress, perhaps we may speak again." Her eyes lit-- she clearly understood ambition and greed. _She thinks I think like she does. Good._

"Of course, Severus, of course," Fudge blustered. He gave Severus an exaggerated wink.

Severus nodded before departing and making his way to his office.

***

[14 April 1996]

The next morning, at breakfast, Severus was staring with narrowed eyes at Potter and the Gryffindor table. McGonagall had hurriedly explained the circumstances of Dumbledore's removal when he'd encountered her in the corridor. He supposed he could blame Malfoy and the other Slytherins for their collaboration with the toad, but, ultimately, Dumbledore would still be at Hogwarts if Potter and his compatriots had been capable of any sort of subterfuge. _I'm surprised they lasted this long._

Potter had noticed his gaze and glared in his direction before leaning over his plate to speak with Ron Weasley. _Don't glare at me; it's your own fault, boy._

He heard Umbridge's little girl voice behind his shoulder. "Professor Snape, a word if you please."

He looked behind him. He kept his face carefully blank. "Certainly, Headmistress."

"May we speak in your office?" Her voice was quiet, but he noticed McGonagall watching the exchange out of the corner of his eye.

"Naturally." He was surprised. It set him immediately on guard. He would have expected her to summon him to her own office-- glorying in her newfound power. _Of course, rumor has it she can't get into the headmaster's office, even with the password._ Still, that she had not suggested her own office hinted that she wanted a favour-- something he might be disinclined to provide.

She nodded, chins jiggling. "Good. Shall we?"

He pushed his chair back, leaving the remains of his breakfast, and walked quickly out of the Great Hall, to the stairs, and down to the dungeons and his office. He purposely made his stride as long as possible, enjoying the sound of Umbridge being forced to jog to keep pace. He opened his office door and gestured for Umbridge to enter; she was panting slightly.

She sat down. She smoothed at her hair as her breathing slowed, then folded her hands in her lap.

He sat down behind his desk, waiting.

Her eyes narrowed, tiny hard black specks. "Professor Snape, do you know where I might find Dumbledore? He is, of course, a fugitive from the Ministry's justice."

He shook his head slowly in denial. "I'm afraid not, Headmistress." _If that were all, we wouldn't be here._ But, asking her the reason for her presence gave her power over the situation; he wasn't ready to surrender that. He was tempted to probe with Legilimency; she'd shown no prior ability to detect it or defend against it; in the current environment, however, it was not a risk he was prepared to take.

Umbridge frowned. She was silent, clearly waiting for him to speak. When he did not, she spoke again. "I think the Potter boy _does._ I want to question him."

He nodded slowly. "That is not unreasonable, but I believe it is none of my concern, Headmistress. I am not his Head of House."

Her knuckles whitened, but her voice remained smooth. "I doubt he will tell me." She laughed, but it did not reach her eyes. "Foolish boy; it's all Dumbledore's influence, of course. I begin to believe he actually believes the lies about the Dark Lord's return."

Severus nodded again. She seemed to require further comment, so he said, "I feel certain you are correct."

She laughed again. "So, of course, while I have only the boy's best interests in mind"-- _of course you have_ \-- "I'm afraid he simply doesn't understand." She looked down at her hands, a deliberate gesture meant to convey humility. _Don't bother. I understand you very well._ She looked up again. Her eyes were hard. "I require Veritaserum, Professor. Do you have it?"

 _Ah._ "Its use is strictly controlled, Headmistress," he temporised.

"Naturally. And you must realise I am authorised to use it." She smiled, a profusion of chins. "It is for the good of the Wizarding World, Professor."

He nodded. "Of course. And, yes, I _do_ have some limited supplies of Veritaserum, Headmistress. I will be happy to provide them to you for your use."

Her eyes lit with triumph. She cooed in pleasure. "Thank you, Professor Snape. Your assistance is appreciated."

He opened his desk, removed a key. He rose and walked over to a cabinet on the far wall, opened it. He reached in, removed a vial of clear fluid, then closed and relocked the cabinet. He turned back to see her watching avidly. He walked back and handed her the vial with a slight bow. "Veritaserum. This is all I have. Three drops should be sufficient." He pressed his lips together. "I have been told that Potter displays some ability to fight off the Imperius curse, Headmistress. It is possible to resist Veritaserum as well, as I am certain you know. I would recommend you be very careful in your questioning."

Her brows drew together. The soft girlish tones in her voice disappeared. "I know what I'm doing, Professor Snape."

He inclined his head. "My apologies. I'm only pleased I was able to be of service, Headmistress."

She clutched the vial tightly in her left hand. She rose to her feet and waddled out the door.

Severus let out a sigh as the door closed behind her. _God knows what Potter will say._ He kept nothing so dangerous as Veritaserum behind a simple lock in his office; Umbridge had left with an innocuous calming potion. The visible effects would be similar enough to pass for Veritaserum. 

Dumbledore had certainly not told Potter where he was hiding, and the Secret Keeper charm made it impossible to expose the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

There were other secrets, however, that Potter could expose: Severus' role among the Death Eaters, Potter's Occlumency lessons, the members of the Order. He could only pray that Potter would hold his tongue. The boy had an unfortunate history of speaking out of turn where Umbridge was concerned.

_No help for it. I've done what I can._

***

Severus noted Potter's absence from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall at lunch. Umbridge was also absent. Granger and Weasley were leaned close together, Weasley gesticulating wildly enough that he almost struck Granger in the face. Taken together, it was highly suggestive that Umbridge had seized her first opportunity to question Potter with her so-called Veritaserum.

Severus had also noticed that several of his Slytherins-- including Draco Malfoy-- were wearing shiny new badges in addition to their prefect badges. Had he missed them, McGonagall made a point of calling it to his attention when she sat down next to him at the staff table.

McGonagall's gesture encompassed Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and other of the Slytherins wearing new badges. Her whisper was furious. "I see your Slytherins have wasted no time, Severus."

"What did you expect them to do? Brave defiance is more in the Gryffindor line."

"You would defend them. I can't believe even _they_ would collaborate with _that woman._ "

 _And people think that_ I _am partisan._ "If you don't think that he"-- he nodded in Draco's direction-- "understands precisely how much threat _that woman_ poses, then be assured, Lucius does."

"They're subtracting points!"

Severus sighed quietly. "I'm certain they are. And, while we argue about it, _do_ please keep in mind that our illustrious headmistress is questioning Potter." He frowned at her. _Why precisely do I pay better attention to your students than you do, McGonagall?_

Her eyes widened. She half-stood in her chair. "I need to get him."

 _For all McGonagall cautions subtlety, she's not good at it._ "The headmaster made a point of keeping both of you here; are you ready to abandon that so quickly?"

She resettled in her chair. "I know, I know. It..."

His response was forestalled by a series of explosions. A mass of students leapt predictably to their feet and ran out the double doors to the Entrance Hall. Severus made a move to hurry after them, but stopped a few paces away from his chair when a series of screaming rockets burst through the doorway, shot up to the ceiling, and exploded, raining streams of coloured sparks-- red, green, blue, gold. With the sparks came the smoke, which thickened with each subsequent rocket. He glanced at McGonagall, who had risen after him, then stopped when the fireworks had entered the Great Hall. Her mouth had fallen slightly open; she was gazing up, silent.

Severus extracted his wand from his pocket and lifted it, ready to Vanish the fireworks. McGonagall moved suddenly and grabbed his upraised arm. "No, Severus," she whispered quickly. _What?_ She spoke in a voice that carried, despite the continuing explosions from the Entrance Hall. "Oh, dear. Whatever shall we do? Someone _must_ fetch the headmistress. I'm not certain that dealing with this sort of problem is _within our authority._ Only the headmistress can possibly solve a problem of this magnitude." She gave Severus a hard look.

 _I doubt it's worth provoking Umbridge._ Still, Severus was not going to defy McGonagall. He responded with a slight nod, and she released his arm.

Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra, and the others were quick to catch McGonagall's meaning, and repeated her cries for the headmistress to come and deal with the problem-- though Severus noticed Flitwick surreptitiously cast a Bubble-Head Charm to avoid breathing the smoke, which had become increasingly oppressive.

Most of the students had already left the Great Hall to watch the spinning Catherine Wheels and wild rockets by the time the teachers made their way out to the Entrance Hall.

 _It's the Weasley twins, of course. Who else?_ For once, Severus felt almost in charity with them. His amusement grew when he finally saw Umbridge dashing madly about the Entrance Hall, casting spells on fireworks and wringing her hands as each spell caused them to multiply, enlarge, or scream. The fireworks were darting throughout the school.

_It will take her all day._

It was petty and vindictive, and absolutely perfect. Severus summoned Umbridge to the Potions classroom several times to deal with fireworks over the course of the afternoon.

The first time she appeared, her hair was already stragging down her back and she had a sootmark across the front of her robes and another on her cheek. 

"My apologies, Headmistress," he said, as she waddled in the first time. "I am quite naturally concerned that these fireworks might upset some of the more unstable ingredients."

She had glared at him, but dealt with the firework as some of the students snickered quietly. He had directed a narrow glare at his class. Well-trained, they had fallen silent. When Umbridge walked out of the classroom, Severus had allowed himself a slight smirk.

Umbridge was not intelligent. Being unintelligent and uncreative made her no less a danger.

Still, Severus was human enough to enjoy the sight of Umbridge running about for the rest of the day. Her robes were filthy and her hair visibly singed in several places by dinner.

She never came by to discuss Veritaserum or questioning Potter.

***

A few hours past dinner, Severus was sitting marking first-year essays in his office. There was a tap at the door.

He set his quill down with relief. _Appalling essays; absolutely appalling._ "Come."

The door opened a crack, and Draco Malfoy peered in. "Professor Snape, sir?"

"Come in, Draco."

Draco moved in with a quick smile, then closed the door behind him. The light glinted off of his Inquisitorial Squad badge. "Professor, Montague's missing."

Montague was the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. Severus was not excessively fond of him, but Montague was an excellent Quidditch strategist, if an indifferent student. Severus lifted one eyebrow. "Define 'missing,' please?"

"No one's seen him since this morning, sir. He was in his first class, but not his second. It must have been something during break. We checked his room; we checked the Quidditch pitch-- he's just _gone,_ sir."

 _And with those miserable fireworks, of course no one noticed until now._ Severus' earlier fondness for the Weasley twins and their prank abruptly evaporated. _So, where is he?_ Severus steepled his fingers before his lips. "I see. That would certainly seem to qualify as 'missing.' I shall, of course, look into it. _Where_ was he when he was last seen? _Whom_ was he with?"

Draco shook his head. "In Flitwick's class, that's all I know."

 _Damn._ "Has the headmistress been notified?"

Draco's face twisted. " _Her._ No, sir."

"But, is not Montague also a member of the headmistress' Inquisitorial Squad, Draco?" He nodded in the direction of Draco's badge. "I am certain she would be concerned." 

"With respect, sir, she's _useless._ " He shook his head.

Severus smirked, then forced his lips smooth. "Your point is noted." It was not the time to glory in Umbridge's incompetence. He had a student missing. "Please rouse the house; have the students search it for Mr Montague. I will contact the other teachers and endeavour to discover what has become of our Quidditch Captain."

Draco sighed. "Thank you, sir." 

Draco still stood in front of Severus' desk. Severus rose to his feet. "Go, Draco."

Draco gave him a quick nod and a guilty glance, then hurried out the door.

***

Severus spent the rest of the night searching the school. His initial attempts to locate Montague with magic were a complete failure. There were so many areas at Hogwarts that were shielded from locator charms, however-- the Room of Requirement, for one, the Chamber of Secrets, for another. Severus searched the Room of Requirement himself; it was empty. Only Potter could enter the Chamber of Secrets.

_Hard to imagine Potter being that eager to punish Slytherin's Quidditch team._

Severus went down to the kitchens to request assistance from Hogwarts' house-elves. In between their wails of terror and bashing their foreheads into walls over having a student missing, Severus determined none of them had seen Montague. He set the more useful of them searching, then roused the other teachers.

The other teachers assisted until well after midnight, then left to seek their beds. Even Filch abandoned him. 

Reports from Draco indicated that no one in Slytherin had seen any trace of Montague.

Severus stomped through the Entrance Hall for the tenth time that night, kicking at the charred remains of a firework. _It's probably not the Dark Lord. He's one of Umbridge's assistants, so it's probably not the Ministry._ He shook his head. _If this is a prank, I swear I will rip him apart for it._

***

[15 April 1996]

Dawn arrived, and Severus stopped by his rooms to bathe and change his clothing before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. His eyes were dry, sinuses burning from lack of sleep. 

Fred and George Weasley were holding court at the Gryffindor table, laughter and expansive gestures a clear sign-- if Severus needed one-- that they were responsible for the previous day's fireworks.

Montague was still missing from the Slytherin table. 

Severus looked in Draco's direction. When Draco looked up, Severus shook his head slowly. Draco frowned, then shook his own head. _So, they've not found him either._

Severus pressed his lips tightly together. McGonagall entered and sat down next to him. "Did you find him, Severus?"

Severus sighed. "I did not."

She frowned. "I'll ask Gryffindor to look." She gave him a piercing look. "But you-- Severus, are _you_ all right? Did you get any sleep?"

He snorted. "Just see what you can find out, please."

She tapped her fork against her plate. Her eyes narrowed. "Severus, you've an hour before lessons start. Go _get some sleep._ You've done your best. I'll talk to Filius and Pomona. I swear to you, we'll find him."

Severus shook his head.

Her tone changed. While still quiet, her next words bore the air of command. "I mean it, Professor Snape. _Go._ "

With a small sigh, Severus rose to his feet and left the Great Hall, ignoring Umbridge's calls after him. _Let McGonagall handle it._

He went down to his rooms and climbed into bed without bothering to undress.

***

Severus was up in an hour-- still tired, but no longer shaky. 

He gestured the first-year Hufflepuffs into the classroom. He made the day's lecture as short as possible before starting them on a practicum. The potion itself was harmless enough that his slowed reflexes should not pose any hazard.

He sat behind his desk rather than patrol the classroom as he normally would. The students shot him nervous glances.

He forced himself to rise out of his chair and check the potions at the end of class. Most were passable, some few good, some appalling, none exceptional. He dispensed his usual evaluations, then set them to cleaning up their stations.

One of the students raised her hand just before he dismissed them. "Yes, Miss Carleton?"

She rose from her chair, and was silent a moment. She licked her lips. _Nervous. I'm surprised she spoke._ "Um, Professor Snape, you said you'd return our essays today?"

He remembered the pile of essays he'd abandoned on his desk. "I shall return essays to you after Monday's lesson." _Never apologise, never explain._

She nodded quickly, resuming her seat.

"Anything more?" He raised a brow. None of the students so much as twitched. "Fine. You're dismissed."

The rest of the day brought more lessons, but no updates on Montague's whereabouts.

Severus had nearly forgot he had Potter after dinner for Occlumency. He had been waiting to speak with McGonagall when he glanced at the clock and realised it was nearly six. He hurried down to his office; Potter had not yet arrived.

 _Of all times to try this, it would have to be today._ The only bright spot in his Occlumency days was missing-- due to Montague's disappearance and Umbridge's installation as headmistress, there was no way he could justify visiting Black tonight.

He heard the strike of the clock-- six. _Potter's late. What a shock._

While waiting, he extracted the usual three memories from his mind, one by one. Potter walked in just as he dropped the last memory in his Pensieve.

He had just taken out his wand to begin the lesson when the door opened, slamming against the wall. _Draco._

Draco's claim that Umbridge-- _of all people_ \-- had found Montague was enough to garner Severus' full attention. Montague was trapped inside the school plumbing, and Umbridge couldn't get him out. Severus dismissed Potter, then hurried out of his office, up the stairs, and to the fourth floor bathroom. Draco was only a few steps behind him, explaining how Umbridge had come to discover Montague.

Severus burst into the bathroom to find water covering the floor. Umbridge was filling up nearly all of the space inside one of the stalls, talking to a toilet. "Now, Mr Montague, please don't worry. I've given you my word we'll get you out soon enough."

"I brought Professor Snape, Headmistress," Draco said.

Umbridge looked up and stepped out of the stall. She blinked rapidly. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy." She spoke in her usual cloying honeyed voice. "Professor Snape, as you see, Mr Montague is trapped inside the toilet."

 _Yes, I'm clear on that._ "What have you tried?"

She looked briefly stunned. "I scarcely know what to try, Professor Snape."

 _Useless._ Severus strode past her, took out his wand, and transfigured the toilet. The bowl stretched wide open to the edges of the stall, then up to the ceiling. The pipes within expanded as well. He moved his wand to his left hand. Reaching in with his right hand, he grabbed Montague by the collar and jerked him free. Severus moved aside and shoved Montague out of the stall, then released the toilet to its normal form.

He turned and stepped out of the stall. 

Umbridge's mouth was open in an "O." Even Draco looked taken aback. Montague's face was twisted and red, his hair slicked with water; he swayed from side to side. He was gulping in air with loud sobs. Water sluiced from his clothes, splashing noisily on the floor.

Severus couldn't quite repress a glare in Umbridge's direction. _God knows if the boy has anything broken._ "Come, Mr Malfoy. Let's get him to the infirmary. _Mobilicorpus._ "

"Yes, sir."

Severus didn't turn to see whether Draco followed; he heard the footsteps behind him as his spell carried Montague to the infirmary. Once there, he gave a hurried explanation to Madam Pomfrey. Montague was still sobbing; neither Severus nor Pomfrey was able to get anything out of him. 

"Stay with him," he finally said, looking at Draco.

Draco nodded quickly, "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Severus left, making for his office. _At least I can sleep tonight. God, I might even be able to visit Black._ He opened the office door with a sigh. 

Harry Potter stood behind his desk, bent over the Pensieve.

For a moment, all Severus could do was stare in shock. Finally, his brain started working again. He'd left his memories in the Pensieve, and Potter had decided to take advantage of it. _Fuck._

He strode across the room, plunging himself in the Pensieve. _Which memory?_

Things swirled around him before solidifying. _This one. It would have to be this one._

A younger version of himself was upside down, robes hanging over his face.

James Potter stood, cupping at a cut on his cheek. He looked furious and cruel. _Exactly as I remember him._

Sirius Black looked on with narrowed eyes. Remus Lupin sat on the ground a few feet away, staring in determined focus at his schoolwork. Peter Pettigrew was almost bouncing in enthusiasm. _We all should have known._

Lily Evans was flouncing away from the scene. He'd called her a Mudblood, he recalled absently.

Potter stood, back to Severus, observing.

Severus knew precisely what was left, and he didn't want to see it.

James Potter was about to remove Severus' pants. Severus flinched. He reached out and grabbed Potter hard. Potter's head swivelled around. Seeing Severus, his mouth dropped open.

Severus wasn't even entirely certain what he said to the boy as he dragged him out of the memory. Back in the classroom, he tightened his grip on Potter's arm.

Potter jerked, trying to free. The boy's face had gone white; his eyes were wide. Severus wasn't seeing Potter anymore; he was seeing James Potter. James Potter, the scourge of Severus' existence at Hogwarts. _God, I despise him still._ He felt a surge of pure rage. The only thing he knew is that he needed silence out of Potter. He dragged himself back under control long enough to demand it. 

He was vaguely shocked to see that Potter was sprawled on the floor, shaking.

Potter was shaking his head, scrambling to his feet. His placating words made no impact on Severus' rage.

Having thrown Potter out with the admonishment not to return, Severus pulled his chair out and sank down behind his desk. He buried his face in his hands, feeling cold and shaky. _God, if I'd left them in my head... he'd never have seen. And I have to face him tomorrow and the day after._ It was tempting to take a page from Gilderoy Lockhart and simply Obliviate the boy.

 _The headmaster wouldn't like that._

Dumbledore wouldn't like the fact that Severus had thrown the boy out of Occlumency lessons, either.

His mouth twitched. He lifted his head, forced himself to rise. He lifted his wand and pulled the memories back into his head. _God knows how many he saw._

He shook his head, sank down in his chair again. 

He drew in a shaky breath, let it out. The next week was the Easter holidays; Dumbledore wouldn't be expecting lessons.

After that-- _God, what? If Potter comes back and apologises...?_ He couldn't answer the question.

Severus sat behind his desk, staring blankly at the objects on his shelves, registering none of them.

When he looked at the clock, he realised more than an hour must have passed while he sat.

It was nearing when he usually called on Black. After Severus' quick departure Monday night, Black would hardly be surprised if he failed to come. Severus had been up all night searching for Montague; he'd had only a single hour of sleep. Slipping out of the school undetected would be more difficult with Umbridge as headmistress.

Severus drummed his fingers against the desktop; the sight of Black watching as fifteen year-old James Potter tormented him was etched in his brain.

_If he knew, he wouldn't blame me for not coming._

Severus closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

He opened his eyes as he exhaled.

He rose from the desk, grabbed his traveling cloak, and walked out the door. He encountered no one when he stalked through the grounds to the boundary of the wards. Taking out his wand, he Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

Black was alone, waiting in the kitchen.

Severus grabbed him, pulled him to his feet, and fastened his mouth hard against Black's. He tore at the fastenings of Black's robes, throwing them to the floor. He ripped at his own robes, and shoved both of them hard against the wall.

Black's hands were as desperate as his own.

***

After, Black wordlessly led them to the drawing room for their Defence Against the Dark Arts practise. Severus was afraid Black would ask him about the goat Patronus, Severus' arrival that evening, or Occlumency lessons with Potter. Black let all three pass without comment.

Black had improved; he was faster. He'd clearly been practising moving the wand with his fingertips instead of his wrist. For once, he was able to knock Severus sprawling. Severus glared at him-- _If I weren't half-asleep_ \-- then accepted Black's offered hand. 

Severus allowed himself to be drawn up to the bed after their lesson. Though he knew better, he lay entwined with Black, dozing, before extricating himself, dressing, and quietly leaving for Hogwarts.

 

[27 April 1996]

Potter was around Hogwarts through Easter holidays; Severus avoided him. 

Potter did not appear on the first Monday after Easter holidays for Occlumency lessons, and Severus did not take him to task over it. Occlumency lessons had been an utter failure. They were unlikely to improve.

Besides, Severus found himself quite busy that evening cleaning up the swamp left by Fred and George Weasley's final departure from Hogwarts. 

Montague was finally beginning to regain coherence. Severus' conversations with him had not established precisely what had happened, but Severus had concluded that Fred and George Weasley were responsible. So, he was happy to be quit of them.

Or, he would have been, had he had the opportunity to punish them first for making his life a misery.

Ceasing to train Potter in no way affected his evenings with Black, Severus told himself. He hadn't told Black of the incident with the Pensieve, and he didn't intend to.

After cleaning up the final remains of his swamp, Severus showered and changed his clothing. He spent about an hour going through the essays turned in by his first-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

He checked his watch-- _nine._ He put the rolled parchments in a neat stack, then rose to put on his traveling cloak. A knock came at the door.

He frowned, but moved back behind the desk. "Come in," he called. _Did the Weasleys leave some final surprise?_

But it wasn't Umbridge, McGonagall, or even Draco. The door opened, and Remus Lupin walked in, shaggy hair, shabby robes, and all. "What on earth are you doing here?" _Are you a complete idiot, Lupin?_ Lupin shut the door behind him.

Lupin narrowed his eyes and sat across the desk from Severus. "Severus."

"Lupin?"

Lupin leaned forward in his chair. "Harry says you're no longer giving him Occlumency lessons."

 _Damn it. If Lupin knows, Black knows. And, very likely, Dumbledore knows as well._ "Quite."

Lupin pursed his lips. "You must understand how essential it is for him to learn."

Severus' nostrils flared. "I do."

Lupin frowned, giving a faint headshake. "Then, why--?"

 _I'm not going to talk to you about the Pensieve. If by some slim chance Potter held his tongue..._ "I do, Lupin, but he does not. This is simply the end. He is making no attempt to learn. None. He simply stands there and lets me invade his mind. When he is _willing_ to learn, he may finally be _able_ to learn."

Lupin shrugged. "I'll talk to him, Severus, or Sirius will."

"No, you will not. And, even were you to do so, Lupin, I cannot continue to teach him."

Lupin paused. He seemed to be considering what to say. "I don't think you understand, Severus. Harry contacted me and Sirius. He was very upset. I think you would find he's not mocking you."

 _Well, apparently Potter decided to share. What a shock. Who else did he tell, I wonder?_ "The point remains. I will make no further attempts at this, Lupin. When he's willing to learn, the headmaster can teach him."

"I will tell Dumbledore, Severus," Lupin said.

 _Are we back in fifth year, Lupin? Going to tell, are you?_ "Go ahead. It changes nothing, Lupin. Potter has made no progress in three months of study. He has never succeeded in blocking me out of his mind. He doesn't _want_ to block out the Dark Lord-- he thinks it's _useful._ Nothing I do is going to change that. So, turn around, get out, and try not to be seen."

Lupin sighed. "If you would only try--"

Severus snorted, cutting Lupin off. "And you think I have not been? I have been trying. It hasn't worked, and it will not." _Now, get out of here before Umbridge sees you, fool._

Lupin looked down, studying his knees. He was silent for a few minutes. He looked up. "All right, Severus. All right." He rose from the chair, went over to stand by the door. His hand reached out to touch the knob, and he stopped. "Severus, could I trouble you to check the corridor?"

"Why not? You've already troubled me." Severus stood up and swiftly crossed the room. He opened the door and stepped out-- nothing. He motioned to Lupin, who walked silently out into the corridor. Severus watched him for a few paces, then turned back into his office. 

He had no idea how Lupin had made it in. However he'd done it, he would have to exit the same way.

Severus closed the door, then leaned back against it.

He drew in a shuddering breath. Everything he'd said to Lupin was true. He'd been a fool not to give up on the lessons earlier.

But facing Lupin meant he had to face Black.

***

Facing Black was worse.

"You know you can't do it, Severus," Black said. "You can't leave him without protection." Black sat on his bed, bedding twisted around him. It was a very familiar way to find Black, though Severus usually found him undressed.

Severus gave Black his best glare. "As I told Lupin, he's not learning. The boy practically screams every thought he has. He cannot keep his temper--"

Black scoffed. "--And I'm sure you don't goad him at all--"

Severus shook his head. He looked away, studying the peeling wallpaper. "Black, do you honestly think the Dark Lord will coddle the boy? Do you think he won't frighten him? Or make him angry? Because he most certainly will. Black, you faced as much natural disadvantage as Potter, yet you learned because you put in the effort. He did neither."

"I know you, Severus. You could provoke a saint into a killing rage."

Severus looked back at Black. "And the Dark Lord cannot?"

Black slammed his hand against the bed. "Why didn't you try to help him stay calm?"

Severus took a pace forward, stopped. He met Black's eyes, willing him to believe. He had no emotions to go on; Black had sealed himself very tightly from Severus' Legilimency. "I've done nothing to goad him except _exist_ , Black. Understand that. If my mere existence infuriates him so much that he loses control, I cannot teach him. And, further, very possibly, he cannot learn the skill at all."

Black frowned. He looked down. "Harry told me what he saw."

Severus gritted his teeth. "And did it amuse him?"

"No, damn it. Would you believe he was angry? He-- James-- and why did you even have _that_ memory in the Pensieve anyway?"

Severus threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "As I said, Black. It is a question of control. It is far easier to keep from tormenting the boy when I don't have to remember one of the most humiliating experiences of my life when I look at him. He looks-- a very great deal like his father."

"Yes, but he's _not_ James."

"I think I am far more aware of that that you are, Black." Severus met Black's eyes.

This time, there was a crack in Black's mental shield. Severus felt the wash of affection and grief-- saw images of James Potter: an easy smile that had never been directed at Severus Snape. Flashes of Harry Potter-- mostly distinguishable from his father due to scar, outsized clothes, and green eyes.

It wasn't an affection he understood. He never wanted harm to come to any of his students, but Potter was too bound up in Severus' responsibility to the headmaster to be seen only as a young student.

Severus sighed, shaking his head. "Black, I tried. I honestly did. I couldn't teach him this. It would do no good to continue it."

"Will you continue to teach me?"

"Of course. Why would I stop?"

Black's gaze dropped. He appeared to be staring at his clenched fists. "Thank you."

And that, too, Severus felt. A series of images-- or one image repeated again and again. Black, alone in this monstrosity of a house. Black, sprawled on the sofa with a bottle of Firewhiskey. Black, cleaning through the detritus of his family's past. Severus had the potent sense that his visits were providing Black the only motivation he possessed to live at all.

_I don't want that kind of responsibility._

Severus wasn't certain whom he despised most for the state of Sirius Black's life-- himself, the Dark Lord, or Albus Dumbledore.

Black had looked up-- was watching him now. Black's own mental shield was firmly back in place now, a considerable relief, in its way. His face was calm, serious-- not without bitterness around the eyes. "Are we going to talk all night?" Black asked. "Come to bed, Severus." Black's hands reached up to his collar, unbuttoned his shirt.

Severus unfastened his robes, swept closer to the bed.

***

[18 June 1996]

Severus was sitting at dinner when Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall. Severus had noticed the absence of the Inquisitorial Squad from the Slytherin table. He had also noticed the absence of Potter and his cronies. Even Neville Longbottom was absent. Umbridge was also missing. All in all, it boded ill.

Draco walked in through the double doors, then directly to the staff table. He moved up behind Severus. "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?" Severus kept his response low.

"The headmistress would like to see you, sir."

"Would she?" Severus lifted his fork. 

Draco spoke in an urgent whisper. "I think she means _now,_ sir."

"Ah. I see." Severus sat the fork down, then lifted the napkin from his lap, folded it, and set it beside his plate. "Well, heaven forbid we should keep the headmistress waiting." _I detest that woman._ He rose from his chair and looked back at Draco. The corners of Draco's mouth kept twitching. _So, something to do with Potter, then._ The boy was lamentably obsessed. He sighed. "Where is she?"

"Her office, sir." Draco moved swiftly in the direction of the doors. He walked fast; Severus thought it was eagerness.

Out in the Entrance Hall, Severus reached to touch Draco's shoulder. "Draco, a moment," he said softly.

Draco looked back, brows lifted. "Sir?"

"May I inquire why my presence is required?"

Draco shook his head and grinned. "We've got him this time, we really have. Umbridge caught him sneaking into her office-- Potter and all of his friends." He rocked up on the balls of his feet, then back to his heels. "He's finally going to pay."

 _Potter's a fool._ "I see." Severus nodded slowly. He sighed. "Well, then, by all means, let us go to Professor Umbridge."

Severus followed Draco to Umbridge's office. Draco preceded him into the room. _The kittens are still repulsive,_ Severus thought as he walked through the door.

Draco had not exaggerated. Millicent Bulstrode held Granger pinned against the wall. Warrington had Weasley pinned flat against the floor; Weasley wore a gag that was developing a red spot-- his lip must be bleeding. Crabbe's arm was tight around the throat of Longbottom-- it held Longbottom pinned against Crabbe's chest. Severus identified the other captives as Ginevra Weasley-- _not a surprise_ \-- and Luna Lovegood-- _interesting._ These three also had gags tied tight over their mouths. Longbottom hit at Crabbe's arm. Crabbe's lips drew back; his muscles tensed. Longbottom made a muffled sound of pain through his gag.

Potter leaned back against Umbridge's desk; he'd barely glanced at Severus and Draco before turning his attention to the corner of the room. 

Severus followed Potter's line of sight. Umbridge sat in a tasteless floral armchair. _Typical._ Her eyes were narrowed, but she wore a broad smile. 

Umbridge asked for Veritaserum.

Severus took great satisfaction in claiming to have none. 

Umbridge's claim that Potter had been using her fire changed the situation substantially. _Who would Potter want to talk to, and why?_

Severus studied Potter while carrying on his conversation with Umbridge-- claiming he had no Veritaserum available, claiming he had no non-fatal Truth Potions available at all. _If you knew anything about potions, Toad, you'd know I'm lying._

Umbridge continued raving, and Severus stared at Potter. Potter looked up. The boy's face was white. Their eyes met.

 _So, why are you here, boy?_ Severus pushed into Potter's mind, where he met unexpected resistance. _Of all the times for him to succeed in Occlumency..._

Potter's eyes were desperate. His lips pressed tight together, and his hand clutched tight on the edge of the desktop.

Severus pushed again. _Why isn't it working?_

Potter shifted in place, biting at his lip. His eyes widened.

 _He's clearly upset. He was appalling at Occlumency. Why can't I get in?_ Abruptly, Severus understood: Potter was trying so hard to communicate that Severus couldn't penetrate his mind. If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Severus might have laughed. _Trust the boy to come up with some new skill when it would be least useful._ The odds were low that Potter had anything truly important to communicate, however. Potter surely thought it was important, but, in the end, it was almost certainly irrelevant.

Severus looked back at Umbridge, now standing in the center of the room. She was furious; she wanted to question Potter-- find Dumbledore, find Sirius Black, advance her standing in the Ministry. When he refused to help her, she placed him on probation. _You may certainly try._

Severus bowed. When he would have left, Potter called after him.

And Severus' heart was thundering in his ears. 

He hadn't been able to read Potter's thoughts, but he understood Potter's words perfectly well. _Black. Potter thinks Black is in the Hall of Prophecy at the Department of Mysteries._

Severus turned back to face them all-- Umbridge, the other students, Potter. He met Potter's eyes again.

This time, the image hit with the force of a thunderbolt: Sirius Black, screaming, tortured. Captured, and being held in the Department of Mysteries.

The image played again and again in his brain. It was a moment before he could think. _It may be false,_ he told his racing heart. _It probably is. Potter's not a seer. And Black-- there is no reason for Black to be in the Department of Mysteries._

The image was not so easy to dismiss. Severus had been certain that Voldemort had another spy in the Order of the Phoenix. It wasn't Black-- it probably wasn't Lupin. Shacklebolt, though-- Severus had never understood why Shacklebolt would join the Order.

And Black was open; he was trusting. Shacklebolt might have lured him out of Grimmauld Place in the guise of protecting Potter. _God knows Black was eager to get the hell out of that house._ Severus knew Black very well-- under that scenario, it might very easily be true.

 _All right. I can do it._ He forced himself to calm, surprised to realise no more than a few seconds had passed. He tried to project reassurance to Potter, but, by the boy's frantic gaze, it appeared he had failed. _Well, Umbridge will keep them bound for hours. I've time. I need only check; it will be nothing-- some foolishness on the boy's part-- I can tell him later._ Severus said something dismissive, ordered Crabbe to let Longbottom breathe, and left. 

Severus swept out of the room, down to his office, and unobserved at last, whipped out his wand to cast the Patronus Charm. 

His mind was roiling, and, in his confusion, he failed at first to realise his summoning had changed. This time, he had not thought of his long-ago sorting into Slytherin.

The new form stood before him: four-footed, shaggy-- a dog the size of a bear, glowing silver-bright.

_No._

Severus winced; he knew more of Dark Arts and defence than anyone. Patronuses could change for many reasons. They were simply manifestations of happy memories. 

Whatever it meant, it didn't mean _that_. He wasn't so much a fool as to think himself in love with Sirius Black. Love was a delusion of adolescents. He hadn't been in love with Sirius Black nineteen years before at school-- that had been potion-induced obsession. He hadn't been in love with Sirius Black fifteen years before-- that had been nothing more than lust and desperation. And he was by no means in love with Sirius Black now. Severus almost dismissed the silver dog and tried again, but time was of the essence. He could come up with an explanation later.

"Go," he said, hearing his voice crack on the syllable. It was gone in a gleam, a heartbeat.

He sat in his office, fingers tightly laced before him on the desk, waiting. 

There was nothing for several minutes.

Severus shoved down his anxiety.

A Patronus was not subject to physical limitations, but even a magical beast took time to travel. The delay meant nothing, he told himself. The Potter boy was unreliable. The visions were being manipulated by Voldemort to unknown purpose. It meant nothing.

Still, he was shocked when the gleaming silver light walked through his office door, leapt onto his desk, sat, and began to clean a paw. It blinked slowly at him, striped tail flicking lazily back and forth.

This was a cat-- but not McGonagall's. Severus knew her form well. This cat was sleek and plump-- a spoiled pet. He studied the striped fur, breathing shallowly. Memory-- a night sitting by a dark lake. _"But you _are_ a cat; don't you remember 'the fair Selima'?"_ What had Severus replied? _"Apparently you had an unconscious desire to see me drowned, Black. That's the only possible explanation for quoting that poem."_

 

He reached out with his shaking right hand to touch Black's Patronus. Its eyes regarded him with disdain.

The cat vanished.

It was an answer to more than one question. He drew his hand back, touched it to his lips. Only then did he realise he was shaking.

Severus had to find Potter-- assure him the vision was false.

He rose from his desk, walked out his office door and into the corridors.

***

Severus tried Umbridge's office first. 

Draco was waving wildly at the bats surrounding his head. Millicent Bulstrode and Warrington lay unconscious on the floor. Crabbe sat leaned up against Umbridge's desk, head lolled back and tongue protruding slightly between his teeth.

 _Damn you all._ _"Finite Incantatem."_ The bats surrounding Draco's head disappeared. Bulstrode, Warrington, and Crabbe were unchanged. _Must have been disarming spells._ Draco's eyes were squeezed tightly closed and he continued to strike the empty air for a few minutes more. Seeming to realise he was no longer under attack, his hands dropped and his eyes opened-- first a crack, then to normal size. "What happened here, Mr Malfoy?"

"They tricked us-- that miserable girl hit me with a Bat Bogey Hex. They ran out of here--" Draco's voice took on a whine.

 _I don't have time for this now._ "And Professor Umbridge just left you here?"

Draco blinked rapidly, seemed to focus on Severus. "What? No. She left with Potter-- but it was unfair, sir..." _Grow up, boy. You and Potter both need to realise that this is not a game._ Severus slid into Draco's mind. The sequence of events was very clear-- Umbridge had left with Potter, Granger and Weasley. The Inquisitorial Squad had become bored and careless; their prisoners had seized the opportunity to escape. 

Severus got only the images, none of the words. He cut off Draco's complaint. "Where did Umbridge take them?"

"Huh? Oh. Granger said that Dumbledore had a secret weapon."

Severus closed his eyes, opened them. _Weapon?_

Draco snickered, beginning to regain his composure. He sneered. "Granger was even crying over it, sir. Said they were trying to contact Dumbledore-- tell him the weapon was ready."

 _Granger's being creative; the girl's a walking textbook._ Severus had the sense that the situation was spiralling rapidly out of his control. "Draco, do you know _where_ to find this weapon?"

Draco snorted. "Umbridge wouldn't let us go, sir. Afraid we might use it on her, I guess. When I was fighting those damned bats"-- he scowled-- "I heard Weasley say he saw them going into the Forbidden Forest."

 _They're distracting Umbridge._ "Draco, do they have their wands?"

Draco frowned. "What? No. I don't think so. We had them." His mouth twisted. "Well, the others took them when they escaped, but..."

Severus nodded. "All right. I shall deal with them when they return." _Potter can't go anywhere without his wand. Whatever they're doing with Umbridge, they'll have to come back to the school for their wands._ He breathed, finally calming. _There's time._ Severus glanced around. _"Ennervate._

***

An hour later, Potter, Granger, Umbridge-- none had returned. It was then that Severus began to panic.

Running frantically around the grounds in search of one of them-- any of them-- he realised the truth or falsity of Potter's vision was irrelevant.

All that mattered was that Potter _believed_ his vision was true.

Potter was an incompetent Occlumens, and an even more incompetent Legilimens. No matter how strongly Severus had projected that he would look into the vision, Potter had almost certainly failed to understand.

Knowing that Black was at home, safe, that Potter had a tendency of running off on his own world-saving quests-- encouraged by Dumbledore, no less... Potter would be walking into a trap.

_I am a fool._

Severus ran to the boundary of the Apparition wards. He took a precious moment to send his Patronus after Dumbledore; this time, he didn't pause to agonise over the dog-shape. He Apparated directly in front of Black's house at 12 Grimmauld Place.

He ran up the steps, banged on the door.

When Lupin opened it, he almost ran him down.

"Is Potter here?"

"Harry? No, but I had wanted to ask you--"

"Not now." _Too slow._ "If he's not here, he's at the Department of Mysteries."

Black stood behind Lupin wearing something of an abashed grin, and Severus knew why-- _not now._

Later-- there would be time later. Right now, Severus needed to convey the information as quickly as he could. "Black, Potter thinks the Dark Lord is torturing you at the Department of Mysteries. Umbridge captured him and his friends. They were off somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. She dismissed me-- I sent to you-- I thought they'd return. I can't find them. We need to get the Order to the Department of Mysteries. Now."

Black blinked. He seemed to be trying to process Severus' words. "Harry's in danger?" he said slowly.

Severus set his jaw. "This is what I've been saying, Black."

Black's eyes narrowed. "I'll go."

"No, Black, you stay here." _That's just what we need-- to make Potter's vision a reality._

Black shook his head, frowning. "He's my godson, Severus. I can't just leave him."

 _Spare me from Gryffindors and their mindless heroics._ Severus leaned forward, eyes locking on Black's. "No. You can and you will. You will not give them the opportunity to take you in truth. Stay here. Tell Dumbledore what has happened."

"I owe him, Severus."

Severus took a step forward. "Sirius, _stay here._ " He met Black's eyes, held them. Perhaps he'd taught Black too much of Occlumency. Severus could not read past his barrier. Black's foolish smile was gone now. "Promise me," Severus said. "I've sent for Dumbledore. I must return to Hogwarts. I'll search the Forbidden Forest again-- send to you if I'm wrong."

"Moody, Shacklebolt, and Tonks are here," Lupin said. Severus started. He had completely forgot Lupin's presence.

"They'll do." Had all three of them been present when Severus' Patronus arrived? Severus didn't have time to worry about it. They could lose this war tonight-- if Potter was at the Department of Mysteries, the Death Eaters could use him to get the prophecy to Voldemort. They could capture Potter and give him to Voldemort, and then everyone's sacrifices would be all for naught. "And Lupin, _keep him here._ " Severus jerked his head in Black's direction.

Black reached toward him, paused, then let his hand fall. "I want to talk to you, later," Black said.

Severus looked at him, nodded sharply. _We apparently have things to discuss._ "Yes, later." He turned and stalked out, Apparating back to the edge of Hogwarts' wards. 

He moved to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Potter? Granger? Where are you?"

Nothing. 

Severus knew very well that it was futile calling out after them into an enormous dark forest. He tried anyway. Entering the forest, he walked, trying the familiar paths, lighting his wand and parting brush before himself. He called after them again.

Several hours more, and he finally gave in. He dragged his aching legs back to Hogwarts and wended his way down to his office.

He'd give anything for that wretched map of Potter's. If he could only be certain where they had gone-- if he had found Umbridge or any one of them.

He sat behind his desk, rolls of parchment laid out before him, quill and ink ready to hand.

He dipped the quill in the inkwell, lifted it out-- then stared blankly at the doorway.

Someone would come. Someone would tell him it was all right.

If not-- they were all dead, one way or another.

As for Severus, he had the Unbreakable Vow to contend with. The clearest sign of Potter's continued survival was the fact that Severus was still alive.

***

Hours had passed. The night was growing old and Severus had long since laid down his quill. He was still alive.

If Potter survived-- if Severus lived through the rest of the night, he would have to talk to Sirius Black. He might, in fact, have to start using the man's first name.

 _If_ he lived through the rest of the night.

***

[19 June 1996]

Severus had sat behind his desk all night, unable to sleep. His eyes burned. His lips were dry. He couldn't keep from shivering.

It was after dawn when the knock came at the door of his office. 

Severus straightened in his chair. He forced his face smooth. He clenched his hands until his nails bit hard into his palms, then released them and lay them folded on his desk. "Come."

The open door revealed Dumbledore. 

Severus closed his eyes, slumping with relief. Dumbledore here meant Potter was safe, Umbridge was gone-- likely they were no longer hiding from the Ministry of Magic.

He heard the door close, then the creak of springs as Dumbledore sat in one of the chairs facing his desk. 

Severus opened his eyes. He met Dumbledore's gaze; with the force of habit, Severus tried to pry into Dumbledore's mind.

He found it closed.

"The boy's fine, Severus," said the headmaster without preamble. "You were right-- he'd gone to the Department of Mysteries. The Order arrived in time to save him."

He sighed. "Thank God." 

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "We were able to capture some of the Death Eaters-- Lucius Malfoy, for one. They're being sent to Azkaban. Voldemort escaped."

Severus drew in a deep breath. "Expected." He shrugged. "Who else went with Potter? Were any of the children injured?"

Dumbledore looked down at his hands. His voice was sad. "Everyone was injured, Severus. The children-- they should be fine. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom-- they acquitted themselves well."

"Why doesn't the boy _think_?"

Dumbledore looked up. "It's courage, Severus." He swallowed. Severus saw Dumbledore's right hand clench. "But, there's more you _need_ to know."

"What? Why?"

Dumbledore spread his right hand flat, stared down at it. "Severus-- Sirius Black-- he left his house and went to the Department of Mysteries--"

"I _told_ Lupin to keep him there, damn it! Did the Ministry capture him?" It was bad, very bad; he doubted Black could bear another stint in Azkaban, dementors or no.

Dumbledore nodded, still looking down. Dumbledore's voice was hollow. "I know, I was told. Sirius insisted. He was in a fight with Bellatrix Lestrage, Severus. She hit him. Do you recall the Veil? I don't know what spell she hit him with, Severus, but it didn't matter in the end. He fell through the Veil, Severus. He's dead."

His lungs were burning. He couldn't breathe. His hands were clenched so tightly that his finger joints ached. Dumbledore's words had ceased to penetrate. It couldn't be true. He'd asked Black to stay at Grimmauld Place. Lupin had promised to keep him there. Black couldn't have gone and got himself killed in a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange.

It was simply not possible.

Severus opened his mouth to say so, but the words that came out were, "It's the Potter boy's fault. If he had waited... if he had returned... If he had _listened to me in any damned one of those cursed Occlumency lessons,_ this never would have happened."

Dumbledore met his eyes. "Severus, I'm sorry. I know you and Sirius had--"

Severus laughed mirthlessly. He slammed his fist hard down on the desktop. "You know nothing about it, Headmaster. _Nothing._ "

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I do, Severus. I saw your Patronus."

"Don't talk to me about-- I'm going back to my rooms. I can't-- not now." And, dear God, but tears were coming to his eyes. Everyone cried under torture; Severus' eyes had been wet under the Cruciatus Curse. Other than that, he hadn't cried in years-- not when he'd taken the Mark-- not when he'd betrayed Voldemort-- not when Black had been thrown in Azkaban. _Snivellus,_ he heard teenage Black's voice ringing in his mind. He shoved the memory back. He made to rise.

Dumbledore held out a hand, palm out. "Wait. Severus, I know you don't want to hear this, and I don't want to ask this of you. But I must, Severus. We have an opportunity. Lucius Malfoy is disgraced-- imprisoned. Bellatrix Lestrange escaped, but not without the Dark Lord's assistance. There is an opportunity for us-- for you. Claim credit. Claim whatever you can."

Severus laughed. It hurt his ears; he couldn't stop. "You are asking me to claim _credit_ for this? For Black's death?" His lips drew back. "No. I will not. I will have no part of this."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward. His voice was sharp. "I will ask this of you because I need it. I have no choice. The only thing that matters in the end is the defeat of Voldemort. I will use you, I will use me, and I will use Harry Potter however I must to do this. Voldemort does not trust you. The Death Eaters do not trust you. Play this as I know you can, and you will be placed where we need you to be."

Severus felt as if his heart and lungs had been ripped out. _It might have been kinder if they had._ Tears still pricked at the corners of his eyes. "I cannot do this."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You can, Severus; you must. If it will help, you can use the Pensieve-- put away some of the memories."

Grief was losing out to fury. _You will not take those from me._ "No. I earned those memories. I am keeping them." He closed his eyes, let his head fall back. "God!" It forced its way through clenched teeth. He pounded his fist into the desktop, once, twice. He dropped his chin and met Dumbledore's eyes again. His voice was filled with all the viciousness he could muster. "You know, Albus, there's not a hell of a lot to choose from between the two of you. You'll both destroy anything in your path to achieve your goal."

Dumbledore flinched. His right hand smoothed his robe against his thigh. "I, at least, mourn the destruction."

"That doesn't do the rest of us much good, Albus." Severus bit his lower lip hard. He shook his head; his jaw worked. "I swore to you; I will do this. I will do whatever it takes. But this, Albus, this has cost me _everything._ "

Dumbledore nodded. "I know."

"Now, get out."

Dumbledore rose to his feet. Severus watched Dumbledore cross to the door. Dumbledore stopped in front of the door. "I am sorry, Severus. Sirius deserved better from me."

"Yes. He did."

Dumbledore opened the door, stepped out into the corridor.

When Dumbledore was safely gone, Severus swept his arm across his desk, knocking scrolls to the floor, showering them with ink. "Fuck," he whispered. He set his elbows on the newly empty desktop and lowered his face into his hands. _It was never supposed to end like this._ He laughed. _It sure as hell was not supposed to end now._

And Black was gone. Voldemort had been resurrected because of his Horcruxes. Black had none. Those who feared death became ghosts. Black wouldn't be one.

And no magic could resurrect the dead.

Severus had allowed himself to care, and he would suffer for it. He felt the first prick of heat in the Dark Mark.

And, speaking of suffering, there was no time like the present.

He rose from his chair, stepping carefully over the pile of ink and parchment.

He owed loyalty to Dumbledore. Voldemort would be possible to manipulate. One day, if Severus lived, he might have the time to grieve.

***


	4. Epilogue

Dumbledore had been correct-- the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries had put Lucius in Azkaban and Bellatrix quite firmly out of favour. It was easy enough for Severus to step into the void. 

Severus had gone at the first summons, explained that he'd tried to give the Death Eaters enough time to capture Potter-- retrieve the prophecy. No, of course he'd had no difficulty discerning the plan. Severus claimed he'd deliberately delayed the Order-- he'd had no choice but to summon them in the end, of course, but had Lucius and Bellatrix not been so hopelessly incompetent...

The words fell on fertile ears.

Severus had no delusions that Voldemort trusted him. Voldemort trusted no one.

Sick at the thought of what he was doing, he did it all the same. _See what I gave you? Black's dead. Potter is losing everything. He'll be too grief-stricken to do anything-- presuming he could accomplish anything anyway. And Dumbledore-- Dumbledore has so few allies he cannot afford the loss of someone so worthless as Black._

And Voldemort listened. He listened very carefully, mind sliding against Severus' mind.

Severus knew Potter blamed him for Black's death. Potter's rage was almost palpable the last few days of school.

Staring at Narcissa and her sister standing on the doorstep of his mother's house, he realised he knew exactly who to blame. For all they could debate whose fault it had been that Black had left Grimmauld Place, Severus knew very well who had done the killing. He gave a slight smile to Narcissa; he knew why she'd come. He gave a faint nod to Bellatrix. 

He sent Pettigrew away to fetch wine. Pettigrew was Voldemort's spy, for all he supposedly assisted Severus.

Pettigrew. There was another. Without Pettigrew, Black would not have spent twelve years in Azkaban.

Severus had an overwhelming desire to repay a few of Black's debts. _Black deserved better._

Severus listened to Narcissa's desperate pleas, told his own set of lies and half-truths.

And Bellatrix watched him. She did not trust him.

_You killed him. You shouldn't trust me._

When Narcissa asked him to take the Unbreakable Vow, he agreed. Whether the sisters knew it or not, they were present as Voldemort's agents.

_Another loyalty test._ Voldemort planned to make Severus kill Dumbledore-- he thought it the ultimate proof of Severus' allegiance. _The Dark Lord understands nothing about oaths or loyalty. He only understands fear and pain. I have nothing left to lose._

Severus took in Bellatrix's look of wonder as he took the final oath-- the oath that would lead to Dumbledore's death.

He watched them walk away. 

He had his own vows, and he did not need magic to ensure they were unbreakable. 

***
    
    
    Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
    Since sorrow never comes too late,
    	And happiness too swiftly flies.
    Thought would destroy their paradise.
    No more; where ignorance is bliss,
    	'Tis folly to be wise.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series dates from 2005, and is consistent with canon only to the end of Half-Blood Prince.
> 
> Quoted poetry this time is Thomas Gray's "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College." Quoted lines, in order, are 11-14, 51-54, and 95-100. The poem was written in 1742 and first published (anonymously) in 1747. The reference to "Selima" is to the poem quoted in "Nor All, That Glisters, Gold"-- Gray's "Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes."


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